


Airehte

by AFiddlingSnail



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Adora isn't like, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Catra is She-Ra, Catra (She-Ra) Leaves the Horde, Catra Finds the Sword, F/F, Horde Adora (She-Ra), I will expand the Horde's military organization if it kills me, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Physical Abuse, Shadow Weaver Sucks, Warnings at top of chapters, a super great person, details on that in notes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:41:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27743920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AFiddlingSnail/pseuds/AFiddlingSnail
Summary: Another roleswap Catra-finds-the-Sword AU. Only Adora has given in to her role of Golden Child of the Horde and is exactly who you'd expect from the youngest Force Captain in Horde history. Only Catra is slightly more bitter of spending her life in her best friend's shadow. Only both of them are too dense to realize they love the other.That last one may not be new.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Bow/Glimmer (She-Ra)
Comments: 32
Kudos: 137





	1. Bisect

Adora turned the note over in her fingers again and again as the tank rumbled beneath her. Crumpled, stained, and beige, it looked more like a napkin from the mess hall than paper, but that was just like Catra. She’d probably ripped it from the unused field manual she kept crumpled in her locker.

Granted, Adora did the same, but at least hers was neat.

“Force Captain,” the familiar tinny static of the driver’s comms eased the ball of anxiety in her stomach that little bit. “We’re approaching the outskirts of Thaymor.”

One more flick of the note between her fingers before she slipped it into a pouch on her belt and swallowed the worry. A breath - Catra would be at Thaymor, she had to be. Another - it was the furthest outpost of the Rebellion in the Whispering Wood, if Catra had been captured - which was the only explanation for why she was gone so long - then she’d be there. 

Had to be. 

“Roger, Specialist,” both hands fell to grip the helmet and slide it over her head; the tight, ruthlessly grey interior of the tank was now tinged green. One last breath, and then her forearm met the alloy above her and shoved. Her body followed, the commander’s hatch of the tank opening silently despite its weight.

Catra had always found tanks stifling, the weight of the hatches like a looming, unspoken threat. Adora had never understood that; the heavier the hatch then the thicker the metal. And thicker metal meant better protection between her and the Rebellion’s weapons. Now, turned out, all she had was her armor. 

There were no rebels yet though, just the Woods. A small comfort. 

They were denser than she remembered them. Angrier. Where before she’d had space to breathe, the Woods now were a thick, writhing mass of colors, bark, and thorns pressed so tightly together they were almost one solid wall. It reminded her of the labyrinth of pipes and ruins and alloy beneath the Fright Zone she and Catra had explored together as kids.

You couldn’t see the sky down there either. 

She keyed her comm. “All callsigns, this is Force Captain Adora,” she had to shout to top the roar of the tanks and the hissing of the clearer bots’ buzzsaws, “we are approaching the outskirts of Thaymor; prep for contact and dismount. Any last minute questions?”

A chorus of ‘no ma’am’s prompted a small smile behind her visor. This is what she’d been training for, this is what she’d been _meant_ for. Leadership. Bringing the Horde to victory. 

Rescuing her best friend.

Oh, she was going to hold this over Catra’s head for _years._

Adora turned front to watch and wait for the bots to hack away the last few trees before the town. She was alight with anticipation. 

* * *

“Is that the last of them?” Sparkles’ eyes were worried and her hands were clenched together across her chest. “Bow?”

Arrow Boy and the mayor were next to each other, both counting under their breath. It was another minute before they turned to face her and Sparkles. “As sure as I can be.”

“I’m certain it is,” the mayor finished, “everyone is here by my count.”

Catra watched them sag and sigh in relief. Of course everyone was out, she’d let them all know hadn’t she? She’d warned them almost as soon as she learned the town’s name. Her focus moved to trace the lines of Thaymor through the trees, every curve and strut and point. 

But why?

A hand landing on her shoulder had her flinching and snapping over to trace it. Dark skin, gold armor and a sickeningly sincere smile. “Thank you. A lot of people would’ve been hurt today without you.”

She held his gaze for a moment before huffing and brushing the hand off her shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome.”

“Bow’s right,” Sparkles said as she stepped up beside the archer, “you saved a lot of lives today.” For a moment it was sincere, and Sparkles had nothing but gratitude in her eyes. Then they narrowed and her arms crossed. “Why?”

Why?

Catra turned to eye the far edge of the forest as the rumble of Horde tanks grew louder and louder, as the trees burst apart like a wasp’s nest.

That was the question, wasn’t it?

* * *

Her tank was the first out behind the bots, the rest of the column moving to fan out on either side in a rough semi-circle on the Southern edge of town. Hydraulics hissed as ramps lowered to let infantry pour out of the tanks and filter into cover. 

And Thaymor was silent. 

Grey-blue eyes swept it once, then again and again. Knuckles turning white beneath her gauntlets around the lip of the hatch. But it was… empty.

That ball of anxiety in her stomach came roaring back, and each confirmed call of “no contacts” from her squad leads and tank commanders only had it slithering further and further up her throat. Ambush. This place _reeked_ of ambush.

  
  
But how? One hand slipped off the lip and to the pouch that held Catra’s note. Catra would never have talked willingly. No, they _had_ to have hurt her.

The ball turned white hot.

“Push into the town,” she growled into her helmet’s comm. “Hammers Two through Four partition and scan the western treeline. Five through Seven: same for the east. Hammer One will provide cover. Move!”

Four near synchronous “aye ma’am”s and the company - _her_ company - swept forward in a wave of grey and green. 

“Driver!” Her shout was enunciated by two knocks on the chassis, “take us forward behind the infantry!”

The roar picked back up beneath her and swept her away, drowning out the static of rage and worry that nipped at the heels of her thoughts. It ebbed back and away when they reached ten meters from the nearest building, and she leant forward to watch her troops breach and clear. 

One building at a time, then on and on until they vanished over the hill and out of sight.

Silence. One minute, two minutes, three minutes. Her hand swept to the small of her back and unclipped her stun staff. Four minutes, five -

“Alpha reporting clear, ma’am.”

“Same for Bravo, ma’am. Looks like they left in a hurry.”

“Still nothing on the treelines, ma’am.”

The rough hum of grinding teeth underlined her thoughts. They made Catra talk which meant they hurt Catra but Catra wasn’t here. Catra _wasn’t here_. Her first mission and the rebels had fled before she’d even arrived. And they’d taken _her_ with them. 

Her eyes swept over the huts. More like shells than buildings, but… yes. 

Still wood. 

The rebels wanted to send a message, huh? Well, so could she.

She ripped the helmet off her head and slammed it down on the chassis next to her. Her fingers grazed the note at her hip. 

“Burn it,” she ordered.

* * *

“What are they doing?”

“Searching for you, looting, who knows,” Catra shrugged without looking back at Bow, eyes too busy tracking the horde soldiers that blitzed through the town and came up empty. She could feel the frustration and the confusion bleeding off them.

She hadn’t decided if that was funny yet. 

“Will they leave if they don’t find us?”

“I dunno,” the mayor grumbled something behind her. “Depends on the Force Captain.”

“Do you think -”

“Hang on,” Sparkles shot off the tree she’d been leaning against and moved to the very edge of the treeline. “They’re doing something.”

“What?” Bow asked, “what’s happening?” 

Her claws sank into the tree next to her and she scampered up, edging her way out onto a bough to get a better view. Sparkles was right, the soldiers were clearing out of buildings and rallying on the edges of town. A burst of pink behind her, but she ignored it; instead blue and yellow eyes narrowed, swept south to the lead tank to find -

“Adora.”

“Who’s ‘Adora’?” Glimmer hissed behind her.

“Will someone _please_ tell me what’s going on?”

But she didn’t hear them, not really. She was too focused on the angry blond with perfect posture and immaculate armor. Adora’s mouth moved, and the village went up in flames.

* * *

A week passed painfully slow for Adora. Literally and metaphorically. She spent the days pouring over scouting reports, hunting for a sign of Catra hidden in the rebel movements, a minute signal to their scouts, _anything_. When those were exhausted she’d read yesterday’s to make sure she hadn’t missed anything, then throw herself wholesale into the gym and sparring until her body ached and she passed out from exhaustion. 

There was no way she would be able to fall asleep otherwise.

Catra was counting on her, and she was failing. 

That was unacceptable. She _had_ to find her.

Another slam into the punching bag and her shoulder screamed.

Shadow Weaver found her in the gym on the sixth day, gave her a report with an unreadable posture. A rarity, given that Adora had been raised by the woman. She nodded her thanks and plopped onto the floor to read it then and there. 

It was a report from an outpost in Plumeria. Experimental energy generation and something about runestones. Adora skimmed past that part, all the way down to halfway through when it first mentioned rebels and princesses. 

A surprise attack by the - formerly pacifist - townsfolk of a neighboring village led by three princesses. One pink and purple with teleporting powers, another tall and svelte with the ability to control plants - she had to read that one twice - and a massive princess in white and gold wielding a blue, crystalline sword. 

A princess with feline ears, a tail, and blue and yellow eyes.

“What?” No, this didn’t make sense. She read it again.

_\- led by a Princess of immense strength that they called ‘She-Ra.’ Tossed us around like dolls, and our weapons didn’t leave a scratch on her._

_Physical description: at least two meters tall, with feline ears and a tail. One blue and one yellow eye. White and -_

“I…” _One blue eye and one yellow eye._ “Shadow Weaver what -”

Her legs shot up beneath her and the world faded away to just the datapad in her hands and the ground beneath her feet.

_One blue eye and one yellow eye._

A hand, gentle and deliberate, laid itself on hers to stop the trembling. She hadn’t even noticed it was shaking, but the contact still ripped her back into the world. So loud and bright and sharp she staggered back into the punching bag she’d been training on.

Shadow Weaver. Shadow Weaver was here, right in front of her, worry written into her bearing.

“This is a lie.” Her voice was hoarse, but it shouldn’t be. She hadn’t been screaming. “The garrison commander must’ve-must’ve been seeing things. Catra wouldn’t - she couldn’t -”

“I’ve already talked to them, Adora.” Her voice was as soft as her hand. Laced with pity. “And his subordinates. They all confirmed the description.”

They were just sounds. Sounds that someone made and put in a blender and sent spinning at her brain to bounce around inside and turn to mush. And then, on the eighth bounce, she parsed them.

“The rebels, they must have _done_ something to her.” Her eyes focused in on Shadow Weaver, the white slits of her eyes. “They have magic, right? They caused this. Catra would never -” a breath. “Never betray us.”

Would she?

“Oh, my dear,” the hand left hers and swept up to caress her cheek. “Catra has always been… opportunistic, you know that. Whether the rebels have enchanted her to alter her reality… I can’t say. But true mind control?” The hand slipped under her chin and gently raised it. “That is far beyond their skills.”

The words hit her like a hammer blow and shoved all the air from her lungs. Turned her thoughts to static.

“That… that means that she…” left us. _Left me._

“Shh now, dear. It is likely that Catra has betrayed us -” a flinch “- but the rebels may be doing something to alter her perceptions. I do not know for certain.”

Her eyes slipped to the floor, open, but not seeing. Rage and hope thrashed in equal measure through her breast, slipping up to rule her thoughts before the other dragged it down and took its place on a cycle. Each time it happened the world slipped further away.

“-dora. Adora,” Shadow Weaver snapped and Adora forced the emotions down and away. Let muscle memory take over.

“Ma’am?”

The sorceress just looked at her, eyes roaming and narrowing ever so slightly when they met her own. A quick nod to herself. “You need a distraction,” she decided. 

Reflex and nothing else carried her into a quick “yes ma’am” that only had Shadow Weaver’s eyes narrowing that much more. 

“Come with me,” she ordered and turned on the spot to glide out of the room. It took a second for the order to register in her muddled brain, but her legs carried her after the woman without prompting as soon as she had turned. 

“Salineas,” Shadow Weaver said without turning. “A vital port that the Rebellion has controlled for years. Take it, and we take the seas. Take the seas, and the rest of Etheria will follow suit.”

Briefings. Missions. They were comfortable. Familiar. And Shadow Weaver’s gentle but insistent tone was the icing on the cake to settling her thoughts. She could deal with this. “How many troops will I have?”

Shadow Weaver slipped into the Black Garnet Chamber and Adora followed suit. “Two squads, your task is to scout it, not seize it.”

A frown split her face, colored a dark crimson from the runestone’s light.

“Now, now, Adora, don’t fret. This is not a demotion -”

“It’s cadet work,” Adora muttered. _But_ , a part of her brain said, only now resurfacing from her instability earlier, _it’s work_. Shadow Weaver cocked her head at her. “Sorry, Shadow Weaver.”

“It is no trouble, my dear,” her head bowed over the pool, one finger slicing through it with a sharpened nail and leaving trails of light in its wake. “Can you handle it?”

“Of course, Shadow Weaver. I’ll have my team picked and ready to go inside the hour.” Lonnie, Kyle, and Rogellio would be coming, that was obvious. It would be good experience, and she didn’t trust the other Force Captain’s with her family’s lives. 

“Oh, and Adora. Before you go,” Shadow Weaver’s head rose to face her. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

* * *

“Do we _have_ to go for the _water_ Princess?”

Bow settled on the rail beside her, taking a break from Seahawk’s pointless boasting. His shirt was as white as her knuckles. “You said it yourself, Catra.” His voice went low and angry, brows drawing together while he crossed his arms. “‘The Horde will roll over you in a straight fight. The only reason you’re alive is because of the Whispering Wood.’”

Glimmer teleported behind Bow, face knit in a mock frown and voice matching the archer’s. “You need more firepower.”

“I don’t sound like that,” she grumbled back at the pair. They were lucky this water had her so out of commission or she’d… she’d… well, it would be _funny_ that’s for sure.

“You’re right,” Glimmer raised a finger to her chin and tried (failed) to swallow her smile. “There was definitely more hissing too.”

“All I’m saying is we should just leave the water Princess to her water, let her do her thing there. Can’t we, I don’t know, go after the fire or ice Princess instead or something?”

“Ice is just frozen water,” Bow felt the need to point out. 

“Yes! I know that! But _frozen_ means I can _walk_ on it. Frozen means ‘not wet,’ frozen means -” a high wave slammed into the bow, sending spray and salt across the deck and all over her left side. She yelped, puffed, and fell over.

Sparkles was in hysterics next to her, not caring that she was just as soaked. Bow was laughing too, but he was ass-first on the ground beside her. Smiling. “You really don’t like water, huh?”

“Obviously,” she growled, one hand slipping down her arm. It’d take at least a day to get all the salt out god _dammit_.

“We’ll make it quick then, right Glimmer?”

“Yeah, very quick.” A torrent of giggles, “and I promise not to splash you.”

“Better not.”

“Here,” Bow rose, smile still in place, and stretched out his hand. 

She took it.

* * *

“Wow! Isn’t this just incredible? The smell of the sea, the wind in your hair, the chop-chop-chop of the water below? It’s enough to make a gal want to start a sailing club!”

“Isn’t that just the navy?” Barely half of Adora’s attention was on Scorpia’s rambling - which she hadn’t stopped since they set off - the rest focused through the lens of their spyglass from the helm of the ship. But it was enough.

“Well, yeah, I guess so. But the navy is all about fighting! What about sailing just for the love of the sea? The thrill of always being so close to drowning a watery death! The -”

Adora tuned the woman out and forced her attention forward. They’d been sailing for hours now, and fingers of rock jutting out from the sea were getting more and more common. Land was getting close, and the only land nearby should be Salineas.

She lowered the spyglass and slipped it onto her belt to scan the deck of the ship. Lonnie, Kyle, and Rogellio were clumped and leant against the rail, chatting. It made her frown, but it was far from the end of the world. _Make them run an extra few laps later once we’re back_. That would at least tell them to be less obvious with their slacking off.

Her focus drifted to the rest of her squad, and then on and out towards the spires of granite around them. Shadow Weaver had been right, she needed this. A deployment - even one as trivial as this - was still a task to focus on. A task to _excel_ with. It forced a clear head and gave her a nice distraction from -

Wait. “Why are we slowing down?”

Scorpia shrugged, and that only deepened her frown as she leant over the rail to the deck. “Why are we slowing down?!”

Kyle jumped and pivoted, hand already raising in a salute. “The Sea Gate -” her frown grew to a scowl “- is blocking our path into Salineas; there’s no way past, Force Captain Adora.”

Her legs swung high and left as she vaulted the rail and slammed onto the deck with a hollow thrum. “What ‘Sea Gate,'” she muttered, hand already raising the spyglass from her hip to her eye. 

A wall of carved, pale purple stone greeted her, the tips of buildings peeking out over the crenellations and just barely visible. And there, dead center of the wall and beneath the crossed stone tridents of two merfolk, was a curtain of sparkling triangles that caught the light like a kaleidoscope.

“Nobody mentioned this,” why had nobody mentioned this?

“Wait,” Scorpia moved up behind her, “didn’t you learn about the Salineas Sea Gate in Force Captain Orientation?”

“I… didn’t go.” The first was the day Catra disappeared, and she’d skipped it to spend the day scouring the Fright Zone for any sign of her best friend. The next, well. She wouldn’t have been able to focus on it anyway. 

“Oh man, you have _got_ to go to those things.” She turned to face the other Force Captain and was almost blinded by the woman’s smile. “They are just, super helpful.”

“So I’ve heard,” Adora grunted and took a deep breath. “All hands on deck! We’re finding a way around that gate. Lonnie!” The girl straightened up, “get us on a course parallel to that wall, maybe there’s a hole we can fit through.”

“Wouldn’t the other scouts have found one if there were?”

“Maybe. I don’t trust them to be as thorough as us though.” 

“Oh,” Scorpia replied. “Fair.”

* * *

Twenty minutes of sailing, twenty minutes of wasted time with not a hole in sight. And now they were back where they started, five hundred meters from the gate. Only this time…

Adora did a double take. 

This time it was glowing.

“Lonnie!” Her voice carried easily over the waves and the engine as she sprinted toward the rail and raised her spyglass. “Bear us to the right, ninety degrees!” 

“Don’t you mean starboard?” Scorpia commented beside her.

“Whatever!”

The gate was changing. Where before it had been a faded kaleidoscope of rose riddled with holes, now it was blue and solid as the stone on its flanks. And there, atop a series of gently floating rocks that wound their way to the center of the curtain, was the source. A beam of sharp, sky blue emanating from a woman. A massive woman in gold and white with long, wild, brunette hair bound in a braid. A woman with feline ears and a tail and fur with three horizontal stripes on her biceps. 

From Catra.

Her spyglass settled on her face and everything sharpened around her. Each line and color like a knife that cut through her eyes and went straight inside her head, but she couldn’t look away. It built, and built, and built, and built until the knives were pressed up against every part of her brain and pushing out. 

And then, like a rubber band, everything snapped back to normal. No sharpness, no knives. Just the Gate.

Her mouth moved in the shape of Lonnie’s name, but no sound came. On the second try she screamed. “Lonnie! Full speed toward the gate!” Adora whipped around stun staff in hand and deployed but with no memory of when it happened. “Scorpia! On the main cannon, blow that thing apart!”

Rubber slammed against metal as she tore up the steps to the helm, her friend’s eyes wide behind the controls. What was Catra doing here? Why did she look exactly like the garrison commander’s description? Wh- “Lonnie,” she bit out. “Get me close to those rocks then bear off left to bombard the gate.”

“What? But that’ll leave you -”

“I know,” something inside her chafed at the girl questioning her orders at all, but she shoved it down. “Just try not to sink, alright?”

That got a smirk out of her, and a tight salute followed. “Yes ma’am!”

Green lit up the sea for an instant as the deck shuddered beneath them. They were so close that the blast of the main cannon firing and the blast of it hitting home overlapped into one, brilliant roar that she felt in her lungs. 

“Keep it up!” Three steps had her vaulting over the rail and landing back on the main deck. On their right the stone pillars of the shoreline grew closer and closer, each second seeing her step back until her thighs met the opposite railing. One hand met the deck as she crouched low, a foot braced against the bulwark behind her. _Just a little closer. Just a little bit -_

She burst forward, launching off the bulwark and sprinting full tilt toward the rail. Four meters, two. The butt of her staff slammed into the deck at one meter out and levered her up over the rail and toward the rocks.

Her chest hit first, the armor the only thing making sure it didn’t punch the air out of her. Training and practice had her hands gripped around the lip of the rock on impact, and a grunt forced its way out her mouth as she pulled herself up. 

The world flashed green again just as another shockwave rippled through her hair and jumbled her stomach. Static arced up the curtain of blue, and, for a moment, it flickered and the cobalt beam died. It was back not a heartbeat later.

Only three rocks away. 

They vanished under her stride. And then she was there, a meter behind the huge swordswoman. A woman that was absolutely, unmistakably “Catra.”

The beam sputtered and died, and another roar shook the stone they stood on, but Adora barely noticed, her attention was consumed by the wide eyes staring back at her. One blue and one yellow.

Something inside her suffocated at the sight, and anger smashed up to take its place. “What the hell is this, Catra?”

For a moment her best friend’s eyes were wide and blinking, like she’d been caught sneaking rations from the kitchen in the middle of the night. Then they steadied. Turned almost sad. “Hey Adora.”

“Don’t you ‘hey Adora’ me; where the hell have you been!? And what are you _wearing_?”

“Oh. This?” One of Catra’s hands - the one that wasn’t holding the sword they’d found - moved down to touch the hem of her skirt. Like she’d forgotten about it. “It’s a… it’s a long story.”

Another blast of green and chorus of static that rippled through the gate. Catra flinched. “Then tell it.”

“I…” her friend took a deep, shaky breath and set her shoulders. When her eyes opened they were solid, almost glowing. “I’m with the Rebellion. And a... a, uh. Princess. I guess.”

The words hit her once, jumbled and bounced through her brain. Then again, and a third time. She knew their meaning, but couldn’t parse them. They were just sounds that _didn’t make sense_ and - 

And they clicked, and it was like someone punched her in the jaw and hit her with a shock baton and ripped into her chest all at once. Her grip on the staff tightened. It was the only thing keeping her steady. “They did something to you,” she mumbled more to herself than Catra. “They used their _magic_ or-or _something_ on you. They…” Catra didn’t respond, only stared. “They had to.” She was afraid. Afraid to ask, afraid it was true. “Right?”

“No.” The single word sent a bout of nausea coursing through her on beat with her pulse. “They didn’t.”

“I don’t -” The world was somehow fuzzy and crystal clear at the same time. She kept blinking, over and over again, waiting for her best friend to surface in the woman before her. The woman who stole her face. “I don’t understand.” It was like her brain was stuck in a loop, searching for an answer, running flat up against the one Catra gave her, and then starting again because it just… it didn’t make _sense._

It couldn’t.

“There’s nothing for me in the Horde, Adora.” Another wave of nausea, sharper than the last, and Catra looked away. “Nothing but Shadow Weaver and your shadow.” A sharp, bitter laugh, though Adora couldn’t tell who it was from. “But I… found some people in the Rebellion. Good people, and they’re,” another deep breath as the world flashed green and shook. Catra’s eyes were back on hers. “They’re fighting for what’s _right_ , Adora. Not for some sorceress' vanity project or Hordak’s delusions.” She frowned, raised a single clawed finger to her lip as if confused. “I didn’t think that mattered, but… I guess it does. It feels nice.”

“What about us!?” The words burst from her lips with a mind of their own. It didn’t make sense. She didn’t understand, they were a team. “What about Lonnie and Kyle and Rogellio?” The words paused, her voice lowering to a mutter, “what about me?”

Catra flinched but said nothing, and Adora stepped forward. 

“We watch out for each other. All of us.” Nobody else mattered, isn’t that what they settled on? Just their little pod - family - of people and doing right by them. “Together, right?” Catra’s frown grew, but she barely noticed. This had to be a mistake, maybe she’d just forgotten. “Come back to the Fright Zone. I-I can work something out with Shadow Weaver; this whole thing - all the Princess crap and Plumeria - I’ll get you pardoned. I promise.”

Catra’s eyes shot up to hold hers. For one of the first times in her life, Adora couldn’t read them. Catra’s mouth opened, closed, and opened again. Finally, “I’m not going back, Adora. But…” she smiled and stepped forward, frowned when Adora stepped back. “Leave with me. We’ll take down the Horde together.” Another laugh, this one genuine and true and like needles in her ears. “Since I’m a Princess now I’ll probably get a kingdom after. Pretty nice, huh?”

All Adora could do was stare. At the woman who wore her friend’s face. At the flickering blue of the gate behind her, at the glow of the sword she held in her hand. She was going to be sick. The woman’s mouth moved, but she didn’t hear it, the world was shrinking down and down and down while something keened and smashed against her teeth over and over. It was just the keening and the nausea and Catra’s smile. She was going to be _sick_.

She turned, glowing an electric green in the cannon’s light, and raised her sword toward the gate. 

Adora’s staff smashed it aside, and then, all at once, they were fighting.

“Adora!” Catra sidestepped and parried her staff, “Adora wait!”

Adora couldn’t talk if she wanted to, was hardly in control of her body. Barely inside it, she was nothing but a bundle of muscle memory, rage, and pain. A hoarse roar and another wild swing that Catra deflected. She flowed like water into her guard and brought a knee up into her chest. 

Normally a blow like that from Catra wouldn't have had much effect, especially with armor. Now though she heard the alloy of her cuirass scream as it bent inward, the air leaving her lungs in a rush that left her a coughing heap. 

“Stay down, Adora,” white and gold boots that circled her, then stepped away toward the gate. The world was tinted an electric sky blue, and Catra was grunting with effort.

Her breath came back slowly, hand out and scrabbling for her staff only to come back empty. She pushed herself to a knee in time with another round from the cannon, this one swinging wide to smash a hole in a stone mermaid’s chest.

Catra’s eyes - one blue, one yellow - snapped to it, and then to her. 

She held them, hated them. It hurt. “Traitor,” she snarled and launched herself into a tackle around the woman’s waist.

It was like hitting a brick wall with her shoulder, and the woman stumbled back a few steps, beam breaking and sword slicing through the rock at their feet.

She could see the ocean below, roiling and angry and eating up the little pebbles that Catra’s boots had shoved off.

But they hadn’t fallen. 

Her feet pumped behind her, driving into the rock, but so did Catra’s. And, slowly, they moved. Backward.

A pair of hands slammed into her back and she ate dirt, coughing, for the second time in thirty seconds. Boots in front of her face, stood solid and unmoving. “Get the hint, Adora,” Catra’s voice, but… not. Not like how she could ever remember her friend talking to her. Her palms found the rock beneath her chest and pushed her up.

One of the boots flashed in front of her face and she shoved right to dodge, the sole catching her forearm as she rolled. Adrenaline spiked through her body, letting her stand and raise her fists just in time to dodge backward from a grapple. 

Her foot scraped the edge of the stone and they eyed each other. It reminded her of their sparring matches just a few weeks ago. She didn’t like it. 

“You are just so -” Catra screamed in frustration. “Just listen to me! We don’t have to do this, you can leave!”

Just leave. Just leave Shadow Weaver - the closest she’d ever had to a mother. Just leave Lonnie, Kyle, and Rogellio - the closest she’d ever come to a family. Just leave her company, just leave Hordak, just leave the only home she’d ever known. Her brows knit together and her eyes narrowed.

  
  
Just leave her future, her duty. She couldn’t imagine one without the Horde.

Could she imagine one without Catra?

She tried to, and caught a blast of water square in the chest. It was in her mouth, down her throat, up her nose. And she was falling. There was just enough time to blink away the salt and meet Catra’s eyes before the ocean swallowed her. 

Still, she stared up at where the woman had been.

A future without Catra. 

What did that look like?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyy! Hello! This is one of those other stories I mentioned I had in the works and ready to publish over on Cold Light of Day. I’m super, super excited for it! I remember finishing She-Ra about a month or so ago and trying to find a Catra-finds-the-Sword AU (and boy, are there a lot), but none of them quite fit what I was looking for. And, if they did, they were dead for a while. 
> 
> So I decided to write one! I’ve written the first ten chapters of 42-ish (probably), and each hover around 5k which is exciting. Longer than my usual chapters at least. 
> 
> Some quick details and explanations of the AU:  
> Adora is not entirely her canon self. One of the main things I was looking for and excited to write was an Adora that, well, that was kinda bad. And she is bad here. There are a lot of changes that will become apparent with the story, but I’ll summarize: Adora still has her strong moral compass and intense loyalty, but it’s been ground down to be reserved for only those closest to her, rather than everyone else. She’s selfish in that way. Also, Adora has given in to the Golden Child of the Horde crap (much like she struggled with with Light Hope and She-Ra) and accepted that it is her destiny and sole responsibility to excel and bring the Horde to victory. There’s more, but it’s spoilers.  
> Catra is mostly her canon self, though a tad less jaded and mean and a bit kinder instead. She also carries a bit more resentment for staying in Adora’s shadow for so long, but it’s not too exacerbated. 
> 
> Please, please, please let me know what you think of my characterizations. That’s easily the hardest part of this fic, and I’m very, very worried about how Adora and Catra come off here (not too confident in their final conversation honestly) so please let me know how I did and if there are any outstanding errors in my grammar. I realized I used too many ellipses writing this, so I’m trying to cut that down. 
> 
> Anyway, I’m hoping to do weekly updates for this story! Should be easy for the first few weeks honestly, but - like I said - these chapters are longer than my usual. So we’ll see how long I can keep that up and if it needs to be shifted to bi-weekly. Anyway, have a great weekend, and I’ll see y’all next Friday!


	2. Aftershocks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adora meets with Shadow Weaver while Catra definitely does not mope. Both make preparations for Princess Prom.

“Do you -” Scorpia stopped to rush up and hook an arm under her shoulder. “Here, I got ya.”

“M’ fine,” Adora grit out, but a twist to get away only had her hissing and clutching a rib. 

“That looked like a nasty fall, and Catra -” she flinched and hated it “- looked… well, she looked _really_ strong up there.”

She grunted as they passed through the automatic doors into the Fright Zone’s central tower - the remnants of Hordak’s ship. The angry, omnipresent red of the old engines gave way to a washed out white. Catra had always said it made her look like a corpse.

“ - I mean have you _seen_ what she did to your armor?! Wow! That’s just… wow!”

“I saw,” Adora growled. Half caved-in armor offered little protection; she’d have to grab a new cuirass from the armory. A shame really, that one had been with her for so long. Even been promoted to Force Captain in it. 

“Let’s just get you to the infirmary -”

“No!” She shoved off Scorpia, shoulder slamming hard into the green alloy wall of the tower. Pain shot up her chest in sharp beats just behind her breaths, but she shoved it down. Grit her teeth. “I’m fine.”

Scorpia cocked her head. “Are you sure? Because you don’t uh, you don’t _look_ fine.”

A hand pushed her off the wall and she set her shoulders back. “I said I’m fine, Force Captain. Drop it.” She was _not_ going to the infirmary. They’d pump her full of painkillers that muddled her thoughts and killed her focus. Left her laying flat on a bed with a foggy brain while she counted the ceiling tiles over and over again. All of it was bad enough on her own, but now? When she had to stop the Rebellion and… and Catra? 

Absolutely not. 

“I need to report to Shadow Weaver,” she said in as deliberate a monotone as she could summon. Not a hint of pain showing. 

“Sure. Yeah. Whatever you say. If you need any help after…” Scorpia trailed off and Adora nodded. Usually she’d just ask Catra to nick her some meds from the infirmary but now… well, maybe Scorpia could help with that. 

“Maybe, maybe.” A pause and half turn as she walked stiffly down the hall, careful not to aggravate her ribs too much. “Thanks for your help, Force Captain.”

“Oh of course, yeah! Anytime!” She couldn’t see the officer’s smile, but she could hear it. “Let me know if you, well, if you need anymore!”

Another nod, and then her legs were carrying her down the twisting hallways on autopilot. Her thoughts were a haze of pain and blue and yellow eyes. A blink and she was standing outside Shadow Weaver’s chamber, listening to the silence. 

Air rushed to fill her lungs in a deep breath; her thoughts traced the pain’s path - from fingers to shoulder - like her eyes would follow the lit roads of the Fright Zone at night. One nerve to the next as they flared like old streetlamps. It was calming.

Her palm found the controls, and the great red door whispered up. 

“Ah, my dear Adora, there you are.” The woman barely raised her head to acknowledge her, eyes intent on the swirling pool of pink and black in the center of the room. “Tell me -” a long, slender finger slipped into the liquid and began to draw. For some reason, Adora was reminded of a blade. “- how was Salineas?”

“Fine ma’am,” the sorceress' focus slithered up to her on that, but she held firm. “Though Catra was there. With the Rebellion."

“Yes, I saw.” It took a mountain of effort to hold in her flinch. Humiliation churned in her gut and crawled up her spine with icy fingers. “Not your best performance.”

This time she did flinch. “I was… caught off guard. By Catra. I didn’t expect…” She broke eye contact for the wall. Counted the rivets and trailed up the seams where the metal met. “I was hoping she was still on our side.”

Shadow Weaver tutted, a slow, careful sound that filled the room while she glided across the floor. Black hair danced behind her like long, languid snakes, and when Shadow Weaver’s hand touched her arm all she could think about was knives. 

“Naive, Adora. You’re better than that.” The hand flowed up to her bicep. “Catra is on _her own_ side. She always has been.” Fingers cupped her cheek, soft and warm and unwelcome. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to tear away or lean in. A first. 

And then the words hit and she frowned. Had Catra always been on her own side? Surely there’d been… something between them. They were friends, had always been friends.

Hadn’t they?

Shadow Weaver’s palm slipped down to grip her shoulder. “You are better off without her. All she did was weigh you down, you know.”

“Maybe I can bring her back.” She didn’t know where the words came from, didn’t know if she even meant them or just wanted to hear Shadow Weaver say that she could. That it was _possible._ That Catra hadn’t _fully_ abandoned them yet. Shadow Weaver always knew, after all. 

A sigh slipped from the sorceress and spilled across the floor. “Adora, Adora, Adora. You’re smarter than this. Catra has _abandoned_ us -” her chest went cold “- and committed high treason in the process. There’s no coming back from that. Not that she seems to want to; from my observations the rebels - or the power - make her quite content.”

The cold spread to her arms, and she gripped them behind her back to stop them from shaking. “Yes ma’am.”

Shadow Weaver turned, mask locked back on the pool in the center of the room as she floated toward it. “It must hurt, Adora. But know this will only make you stronger. Know that you are better off without her.” Wide white eyes laced with fondness met hers. “Know that I am here.”

It only amplified the chill, turned it sharp like needles in every pore. “Thank you, Shadow Weaver,” her mouth felt numb as she turned and strode out of the room. Aching, still-armored legs carried her past her office and dormitory, past the cadets’ bunks; past the cafeteria, and the armory, and the officer’s lounge. She didn’t know where she was going, only that she was cold and the needles had slipped under her skin and into her blood.

Air. She needed air. 

Her stilted walk turned to a stumble sometime past the fifth floor. A barely controlled fall all the way up the central tower until she tripped out onto the roof and sunk back against the patchwork wall. Grey-blue eyes followed the skyline while wave after wave of pain so thick and hot she might drown in it - if it didn’t burn her alive first - rolled over her. Swept her out and away until there was nothing and she couldn’t breathe, could barely move.

From far, far away she watched an ant crawl over her knuckles. 

Gloved hands moved to cup it gently, counting its legs and watching it flit from finger to finger until her forehead met her knees. It continued to crawl, oblivious.

* * *

“You’re moping.”

Catra’s eyes snapped to the Princess who had teleported into her room. Glimmer had her arms crossed. Bow gave her a bashful wave from over Glimmer’s shoulder.

“M’ not moping. I’m just…” one ear twitched and she turned back to watch Bright Moon through her window. “Just enjoying some alone time.”

It had been her and Adora’s time before. In the Fright Zone. Wake early to watch the companies do morning PT and the factories change shifts. The Bright Moon guards were a flurry of purple and blue and white far below, and Catra frowned. When was the last time Adora had joined her? Force Captain training kept her so busy.

“Enjoying some moping time, you mean.”

“What Glimmer is _trying to say_ is that we’re worried about you.”

Catra didn’t answer, just watched the sky fade from a warm pink to a blue as electric as her sword. A hand on her shoulder tore her away, yanked her back to look at Glimmer’s eyes. They looked almost… mad. Was she mad?

“You’ve barely left your room since we got back from Salineas, Catra.” Those dull pink eyes shifted, softened. Worried, that’s what it was. Glimmer was worried. “What’s wrong?”

What _was_ wrong? Was it seeing Adora again, or fighting her? Maybe hearing the pain in her voice and seeing the betrayal on her face? “I…” her eyes shifted down, first to the floor and then to her palms. She opened them, closed them, opened them again. 

“Was it that Force Captain?” Bow was close, shoulder to shoulder with Glimmer. Anxiety burst in her chest when she realized they had her cornered, and then the pink and purple of the room registered again. This was Bright Moon, not the Fright Zone. And they were her… her something. “I saw you two talking up there, but I didn’t hear what she -”

“Adora,” Catra muttered, and both of them just blinked at her. Then Glimmer’s eyes narrowed.

“She’s the one who burnt down Thaymoor.”

“Yeah, she was.” One leg shifted up beneath her, raising to match the other in the windowsill so she could rest her chin on her knees. “We are - were - friends. Grew up together.”

“Ah.” Bow said, a hand under his own chin. Glimmer looked like she’d swallowed a lemon and was seconds away from spitting it out. 

“She called me a traitor,” it was the only thing Adora had said during their fight. Catra hadn’t puzzled out yet if it was the word that hurt or the venom in her friend’s voice when she said it. “I think she might hate me.”

“Some loss,” Glimmer muttered before Bow’s elbow turned it into a cough. 

“It sounds like she made her choice then,” Bow’s voice was even and careful. His hand on her shoulder was the same. 

“Guess so.” Mostly it made her sad. Adora had been her friend after all, maybe her only friend. But there was a part, a small, vindictive part of her that was excited. This - everything she had now - was something truly outside of Adora’s shadow. A chance to prove herself like nothing she’d ever had before. And a chance to pay Shadow Weaver back for _everything_.

What did that make her?

“Here, we have something that might cheer you up,” Glimmer was smiling now, wider every moment. A large, flawlessly rolled scroll sat in her offered hand for a second or two before Catra took it. She’d never had mail before. 

“What is it?” The paper unrolled easily, too easily; it unrolled quicker than she could react, sprawling across the floor in a banner of tiny text and illustrations twice as tall as her. She blinked and then jumped when the pair across from her shrieked.

“Princess Prom!”

Bow pulled her up out of the windowsill while Glimmer vanished in a burst of sparkles and was back not even a second later holding the other end of the scroll. “Princess! Prom!” Glimmer squealed. Actually squealed. 

Catra just blinked owlishly back at the pair, eyes going from one to the other for some sort of answer, but all they did was smile at her. “What the hell is a ‘prom?’”

“Oh!” Glimmer’s hand snatched hers, “I’ve been waiting for you to ask that!”

The world turned pink and purple and then they were in Glimmer’s room, the Princess herself vanishing into her closet while Catra rubbed an arm over her bicep. Teleporting. It didn’t quite make her nauseous anymore, but hell if she’d ever get used to it. 

“A prom is a type of party,” Bow answered from beside her, an easy smile on his face as dress after dress came hurtling out from the closet and onto the floor behind him. 

“Like the one in Thaymoor?”

“Not quite -”

Glimmer burst into being next to her, shoved a dress in her hands with a “hold this” and then vanished. Long and flowing and red, it was maybe the softest fabric she’d ever touched. 

“ - it’s much more formal than a festival - that’s what we took you to. There’s a lot of dancing and food and -”

“Sounds exactly like what you both dragged me to last time.” The thought had a small, burbling excitement brewing in her gut.

Bow stopped dead, hunching a bit while a hand scratched his chin. “It does, doesn’t it,” he muttered.

“Oh Princess Prom is incredible, Catra!” She tried not to jump - again - at Glimmer appearing right behind her, long purple dress in hand. “It’s so so _so_ fancy and _everyone_ will be there! This year it’s in the Kingdom of Snows!” Another squeal and teleport, before Glimmer reappeared in front of her holding her hands and jumping with excitement. “The second biggest kingdom after Bright Moon! It’s the perfect party _and_ the perfect time to get more Princesses in the Rebellion!”

Oh. Oh no. “Are you - uh,” a nervous laugh wormed its way out of her throat while her hands slipped out of Glimmers. “Sure that I should be going then? I mean, I’m only sometimes a Princess and I’m really not great with the whole ‘getting allies’ thing.” Their first meeting with Mermista proved that well enough, not to mention _Plumeria_. 

“Pffft! Of course you should be going! She-Ra _is_ a Princess and so are you! And you’re not _that_ bad with people.”

“Just bad at being polite!” Bow chimed in from where he’d lounged on Glimmer’s bed, tracker pad in hand. 

“Isn’t being polite like, kind of the point here? You said it was formal, right?”

“Well, yeah.” Bow raised a hand to scratch his head, “but we can work on that. It’d be much more insulting not to go.”

“Yup,” Glimmer said, popping the ‘p.’ “You’re going. End of story. It’s gonna be so much fun! Just the three of us, the Best Friend Squad out on the town in the Kingdom of Snows!”

  
  
“Uh,” both of them turned to Bow, “about that…”

* * *

The pain turned to anger quickly enough, and Adora was good at turning anger to action. She threw herself into planning raids with her platoon leads and training Tanglewood Company - _her_ company. Leading the PT drills every morning and overlooking the movements, sparring, and firing trainings. Only once they were fully exhausted would she take over the gym and arena herself. 

Shadow Weaver was right: her performance against Catra at Salineas had been nothing short of pathetic. Angry, off-balance, she’d done nothing more than lash out like an animal. No thought, no technique, no strategy. She _would be_ better than that.

  
  
But she needed help sparring with stronger opponents first; opponents that could match Catra’s Princess form, or near enough. That’s where Scorpia came in. 

Every night since they returned Adora would slip into the mess hall early, grab four meals (two for each) and meet Scorpia in the sparring rooms. And then they’d fight. For four hours. After that it was off to the showers.

“It’s too slow, Scorpia. Way too slow,” Adora growled from her spot against the wall dividing showers and lockers, towel around her waist. A hand slipped through to muss her still damp hair. Cropped hair felt good when wet, gave a nice background noise for her thoughts. “Nothing’s moving fast enough; I’m just _stuck here_ doing _filler_.”

“I’m not sure your company would say that,” Scorpia’s voice carried over the sound of running water and the low hum of the engines right above them. Met her ears and bounced around the officer’s lockers. “You’ve been running them ragged y’know.”

Adora grunted. “They can handle it. Besides, that’s nothing any normal fresh Force Captain wouldn’t do. I need to stand out. I need to prove myself.” _To Hordak._ The man had been on her thoughts more and more lately, slowly but steadily taking the spot of Shadow Weaver. Whenever she thought of the woman all she could think about were the times she’d hurt Catra and all the excuses Adora had made.

  
  
Inevitably, that led down the road of what if’s, _and that’s not worth your time_ , she told herself. It felt like hiding. 

“You’re one of the youngest Force Captains _ever_ , Adora.” The water stopped and let the rumble of the engines fill the room. It’s only competitor was the brush-brush-brush of Scorpia drying off outside her sight. “Don’t you think it’s time to relax and take a breather?”

“It’s not _enough,_ Scorpia.” Two fingers trailed the scars on her chest where her breasts had been. “I need to be better.” She’d been naive - just like Shadow Weaver said - and let her guard down; she’d _let_ Catra betray her. Not been good enough and Catra had left her for it - left them all. She should be _better_. She _had to be_ better.

She had to be perfect, for the sake of the Horde and for the sake of her friends.

“That’s a lot of pressure to put on yourself, y’know. ‘Nobody’s perfect,’ that’s what my moms always told me.”

Adora glanced up to the woman as she moved to her locker, rubbing her white hair dry with another clean towel as she did. Her face contorted into a frown without realizing it. It was no more pressure than usual really, and she’d always handled that fine. The stakes were higher now though, with a company at her back and her friends under her command.

Failure was unacceptable.

“It’s nothing,” she said eventually, and joined the woman at her open locker. “I just - I need to do something _more_. Something _big._ ” Something that got her Hordak’s eye.

But here she was, stuck on garrison duty in the Fright Zone. 

“Oh! Darnit!” Adora’s focus shifted back to Scorpia. The massive woman was messing with a scroll that had slipped out and unfurled itself across the locker room floor and all the way to the opposite wall. “Stupid scroll, stupid Princesses,” she muttered. And then froze. 

“What? What is it?”

  
  
“Idea!” Scorpia shouted and shot up with one claw raised. The other end of the scroll was nestled there gently. “Why don’t you try something at the All-Princess Ball?”

Adora felt her frown grow. “All-Princess Ball? What’s that? Some sort of Rebellion command summit?” It certainly sounded like it if _all_ the Princesses would be there. 

“It’s a party. A big one. Every Princess gets an invite whenever it happens,” Scorpia waved the scroll for emphasis before something on it caught her eye. “Ooo, it looks like this year’s theme is Winter Wonderland! Oh! Oh! Oh! In the Kingdom of Snows! Oh man, they are _huge_!”

“Wait, why do you have an invite then?”

Scorpia blushed the smallest bit. “I’m, well. I’m a Princess.”

Her eyebrows shot up, and, for a moment before she snapped it shut, Adora was gaping. “You? You’re a Princess?”

“Well, yeah.” Adora just stared at her. “It’s covered in Force Captain Orientation!”

Oh. She’d forgotten about those. Again. But a Princess Ball...

Adora turned and let her head fall against her locker with her eyes up and roaming the ceiling. A plan was beginning to take shape in her head. “ _All_ the Princesses will be there?”

“Yeah!” A pause as the other Force Captain raised a claw to her chin in her periphery. “Except for me though. Nobody liked my family even before the Horde, so -”

“We’re going.” She turned to the Princess - she’d internalize that later - with a sharp smile. “You and me, Scorpia. We’re going. And we’ll show them what the Horde is capable of. What _we_ are capable of.”

Across from her, Scorpia grinned.

* * *

“Now who’s the one moping?”

Glimmer frowned and crossed her arms. “I’m not moping, I’m just -”

“Hunched in your closet and staring at each dress with longing, sad eyes?” Catra threw an arm across her forehead and collapsed into the pile of rainbow cloth. “Oh Bow! I thought you were going with _me_! Wounded! Betrayed! Heartbr -” a dress appeared over her face in a burst of pink and fell straight into her mouth. 

It took a few seconds of clawing to get out of the fabric’s clutches, and a few more of coughing to get all the lint off her tongue. Still tasted like cloth. Glimmer though, was smiling at her. “Rude,” Catra said. “Not very Princess like behavior - _or_ polite. I should know, I’ve been _training_.”

Glimmer shrugged, “you had it coming.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Now spit it out. What’s up? Thought you and Bow talked this through weeks ago.”

Glimmer said nothing. Then she met her eyes, groaned, and fell back into the nest of clothes she’d made. “We did. But,” she sighed. “The closer we get the more and more it bothers me, but I don’t know how to bring it up without sounding selfish since we already talked and I don’t know what he’s even supposed to do to help since I’m not going to ask him to _not go_ with Perfuma and just - just - ugh.” She brought her arm up to cover her eyes. “I’m being ridiculous.”

“Yeah. You are.” Catra felt a smile blossom on her face when Glimmer moved the arm to glare at her. 

“Gee. Thanks.”

“It’s what I’m here for, Sparkles.”

Another long sigh before Glimmer ripped herself back up into a sitting position. “Have you decided what you’re wearing yet?”

  
  
“Nah. Figured I’d just go as She-Ra.” That would be much more impressive than just going as boring little Catra, after all.

“What!?” Glimmer shrieked and teleported right up into her face. “You can’t go as She-Ra! Weapons are banned from the Prom premises!”

“Oh.” That… changed things.

“‘Oh?!’ Tell me you at least have a backup, Catra!” The ex-Horde soldier remained silent. “Emergency makeover! Now!”

* * *

Adora ran through the known relationships between the Princesses under her breath for the third time. Eyes closed so as to not take advantage of the memory aids she’d tacked to the walls of her office and room.

“Mermista, Princess of Water and Salineas. Known Rebel and -”

“Wow!” Adora yelped and spun round toward the open door where Scorpia was standing. She didn’t even hear her come in, too focused. “What’s all this?”

Adora took a moment to reset her posture. Another to toss the files she’d requested onto her desk to buy her some time. “This is my prep material for the Ball,” she stated as officially as she could. Her head was bent over her desk until her cheeks were no longer warm. Only then did her head raise to look at the other woman. “I’ve been memorizing the Princess’ names and relationships - as much as is known - and planning.”

Scorpia blinked at her. “For how long?”

She pursed her lips and let her eyes trail out the window to the sky. As usual, the Fright Zone’s weather was no help - just a mess of red and brown skies. “What time is it now?”

“Uh. 1900, I think.”

“Nine hours then.” The first few hours of her day today had been the usual PT cycle with her company, but after that, “I gave Tanglewood some time to catch their breath, like you said.”

“Well. I - hm. I more meant that as a thing that _you_ should do rather than do for them, but yeah.” The woman shrugged, “okay.”

“Too much to do,” she responded with a shake of her head, “speaking of which it’s good you’re here. Needed someone to talk through things with.”  
  


“Oh! I’m a great listener!” The floor shook as Scorpia bolted to the chair in front of Adora’s desk and settled there, claws tapping together and smile wide. “Hit me!”

Adora’s lips threatened to quirk upward. “Two plans so far, and I’m split between them,” she stepped back and pointed to the wall on her left. It was covered with notes, building sketches, and escape routes. “Plan one is focused on capturing tech and rebels - maybe a Princess if we’re lucky. In short: I distract Catra and most of the Ball, you make a play for the sword and lure away some of her _friends_ ,” she spat the word, “or whichever rebels decide to follow us, and knock them out. Then we bring them all back to the Fright Zone for interrogation and - for that sword - study.”

She was worried about this one. Worried she was letting her feelings get in the way of the greater picture. Just like last time. On the other hand, the sword _was_ a powerful First One’s artifact capable of powering even the Sea Gate. There was no telling what they could learn from it. But... was she just telling herself that as an excuse to target Catra? She didn’t know. 

“I like it, I like it,” Scorpia murmured and nodded. “What’s plan two?”

“Plan two is we do everything we can to convince the Kingdom of Snows to join the Horde.” Scorpia blinked at her. “I know. They’re part of the Rebellion, but intel and scouts haven’t reported them taking an active role in _years_. Maybe there was a falling out or something, but either way I think it’s an opportunity for us.” She turned toward the right wall of her office. It was covered in every piece of history she could dig up on the nature, organization, alliances, and weaknesses of the Kingdom of Snows. 

“There are problems though. Who knows if I’m right or not - they could still be a part of it, even if only formally. Second, the Kingdom may be large - and it is - but it’s _very_ far away and we have no actual numbers to put to their people. Another Princess would be helpful,” even if she was a little reluctant to admit it, “but numbers and resources even more so. Finally, it would mean the ruling Princess would have to surrender her position to Hordak.” Adora grunted, “who knows how that’ll go over.”

Short hair tickled her ear as she turned back to face Scorpia. One claw raised and tapping against her chin, the woman hummed. “I think… I think there’s nothing keeping them entirely exclusive. We can still do two while doing one. Not fully, but does that matter? I think one is the better option though. We _know_ it will net us valuable stuff; we don’t know enough about the Kingdom of Snows to know that for sure for two.”

It took effort not to sigh with relief. Maybe she hadn’t been letting her emotions get in the way after all. “One then. With half a two as a side.”

“If nothing else it might at least prevent them from joining the Rebellion, right?”

  
  
Adora smiled back at the woman, a sharp smile. “Exactly.” Maybe she’d get to take on Catra some at the ball too, who knew? She settled back in to finalize the details of the plan when Scorpia spoke again. 

“Have you decided what you’re wearing?”

  
  
“I thought I’d wear my armor or my dress uniform,” Adora spoke to the pad in her hand. Silence. For one beat, then two then three. Grey-blue eyes glanced up to see Scorpia’s own pair wide and her mouth agape. “What?”

“You can’t do that! It’s not - not _fancy_ enough!”

Her face screwed up. “It’s not?” Those are the fanciest things she owns. Everything else is just fatigues and PT clothes. 

“No! Oh, we have _got_ to fix this!” A claw snapped around her wrist and yanked her around the desk as Scorpia stood. “Come with me!”

The other Force Captain bolted out the door, and Adora was forced to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An early chapter to help yall wrap up your weeks! This one actually proved to be a little difficult honestly. I think I wrote and rewrote that Adora-roof-scene a hundred times trying to get it right. One version had her panicking too much, another too little. I’m still not quite happy with where it ended up, but it’s better than nothing. I’ll probably come back to rewrite it again later, but, for now, here y’all go!
> 
> Oh! I also promised to share my notes on Tanglewood's (Adora's Company) composition and makeup, so here it is! Entirely unedited:
> 
> Tanglewood Company: Adora’s Company in the Horde. Newly created company which is how Adora’s Force Captain slot opened for filling. Green company for a green Captain. 500-600 strong, Mechanized Company (like most/all in the Horde? Always armor present, not enough people for dedicated Armored Divisions?) with 30 MBTs/APCs (role seems to be shared in the Horde, Horde ‘land skiffs’ or just ‘skiffs’ seem to serve the role of Humvee/MRAP/light troop transport) 4 crew per tank (gunner, loader, driver, commander - totals 120 tank crew in Tanglewood).  
> Tanglewood composition:  
> Squad Size = 12 (two teams of 5, a medic, and a Squad Lead [Sergeant])  
> Platoon Size = 65 (5 squads of 12 + Platoon Command Squad of 5 [Lieutenant])  
> Infantry total = 455 Infantry (7 platoons)  
> Mechanized Total = 120 crew, 30 MBTs/APCs (need a name) + 60 to 77 skiffs  
> Overall Total = 575 combat personnel
> 
> Average Company size in the Horde ranges from 600-1200. Adora on the smaller end due to newer nature of Company and Captain. Due to lack of oversight from Hordak/Shadow Weaver as long it doesn’t affect combat capability and no higher rank save for Hordak’s Second (SW) there is a lot of competition for troops and ‘politics’ on that front. It’s not too bad tho. Roughly 25 total Force Captains? Total Horde combat personnel of around 15-20k? Maybe 25k? Etheria seems to be pretty sparsely populated to begin with. Going off medieval numbers.
> 
> As usual, let me know what you think and if you spy anything off on my grammar. I was really floored by all the comments my last chapter got, so thank you to everyone who did and to those who left kudos!! I hope y’all continue to enjoy the story!!!


	3. Princess Prom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adora and Catra share a dance, and Catra loses some things that are precious to her. Adora loses her temper.

“Lose this and I will _find_ you.” Glimmer tugged at her arm, but Catra ignored it to hold the guard’s eyes. “Got it?”

“Y-yes ma’am,” they said, taking a few steps back. “Crystal clear.”

She just grunted in response, twisting around to catch up with a glaring Glimmer tapping her foot. Behind the heir of Bright Moon were the massive, glacial doors of the ball. Carved with flowing, intricate fractals that wound their way across every surface she could see.

Each line sparkled with light - vivid and multicolor - rushing along them like an engine on the Fright Zone’s rail system. Catra walked forward slowly, Glimmer talking on her right - scolding her probably - to get a closer look at the door. It was the spaces between that captured her. Such a rich, deep blue that she was almost surprised when her hand didn’t sink into the ice. 

An elbow in her side snapped her out of the door’s trance, brought her focus - and the world - rushing back.

“You alright?” Glimmer. Her brows were drawn together and a soft frown rested on her lips. 

“Yeah. Fine. Just…” pink and purple hair cocked in her periphery. _Snap out of it, Catra._ “I’m fine.”

Glimmer’s eyes lingered on her, colored with doubt and concern. A fact Catra pointedly ignored. 

“Come on,” she said, and shoved the door open. For all its height - easily four or five times her own - the great mass of ice swung silently and easily on its hinges.

Somehow, the main hall made the door look small. It was like someone had frozen half the Fright Zone’s forges, ripped out every bit of machinery, and replaced it all with sculptures, stages, and massive, twirling spires of frost that pierced the ceiling like spears. 

For a moment, all she could do was stare. Then Glimmer squealed, grabbed her hand, and they dove forward into the crowd.

It was… overwhelming. Colors, conversations, people, music, all of it flashed by her face like a lance from a Horde baton. Crackling, sharp, bright. It took a second, but soon enough Catra sank into it and adapted. They wove through the pulsing throng of people like a needle through thread, slipping out with hands still linked. 

A line, they had emerged at the back of a line that led up grand, frozen steps and toward a throne that stretched and rolled like snowbanks. One breath - she could do this, she _could_ do this. Just smile and say ‘your majesty’ a lot like they’d been practicing; sell the Princess on the Rebellion and get back to Bright Moon. Easy. 

The people in front of them parted and Catra got her first view on the Princess of the Kingdom of Snows. 

She was small, so small that the throne seemed to swallow her, and her scowling face was so still that she looked almost carved from ice. Catra blinked.

“Is something wrong?” The tiny ice statue asked.

Even her voice was small. Angry too. 

“Catra! Bow!” Some part of her mind registered the hissed whisper and her spine bent forward, ramrod straight and parallel with the ground below. Held it there until she saw Glimmer rise out of the corner of her eye. The training seemed to have fled her mind. 

“Revered hostess, we come into your hall under the ancient rules of hospitality, bringing greetings from Bright Moon. And She-Ra, the legendary warrior.” Her. That was her. 

Gasps rippled through the crowd behind them, and Catra was acutely aware of all the eyes she could feel scaling her back. “Your majesty,” Catra spoke with a small incline of her head, hands finding her pockets. 

Frosta’s face was perfectly still. “You are welcome in the Kingdom of Snows under the ancient laws of hospitality. Leave conflict at the door, and please enjoy the Ball.”  
  


Catra watched the girl’s wrist flick, and then their view was blocked by guards shuffling them off the dais with chiseled, icicle spears. 

“She’s a kid,” the statement was at Glimmer, half accusation, half observation. 

“Yeah. Didn’t you know? Look, it doesn’t matter, we still need to win her over. But, for now,” Glimmer’s frown faded into a smile, “let’s rock this ball!”

* * *

“Name and invitation, please,” the guard yawned and leant on her spear like a crutch. Adora stared, running through everything she could find wrong with the soldier. Poor stance, a too-loose grip on her weapon, barely paying attention to her work. She had one of the most important postings - getting _into_ the Ball was the largest hurdle to causing any damage - and yet here she was, gazinging longingly at the palace that shuddered with music. 

“Force Captain Scorpia of the Fright Zone, Princess.” Scorpia handed the invitation over, claws not even puncturing the paper. 

“Force Captain Adora of the Fright Zone, guest,” she answered the unasked question over a frown, watching the guard barely glance at the invitation before she handed it back to Scorpia. If this woman had been in her company she’d be running laps from now till morning. 

“Everything looks good. Enjoy the ball. Next!”

The pair of them marched forward, Scorpia’s clawed arm around her own. “Oh man, this is _so_ exciting! And nerve wracking. And stressful. But mostly exciting! The Kingdom of Snows is something else, huh?”

“It’s definitely pretty,” even if the bitter wind all but ignored her suit and the soldiers looked better suited to guard a cafeteria. 

“It is, isn’t it?!” They took the steps two at a time before taking their place at the coat and weapons check. “All this ice and, well, snow. Makes ya wonder how they built the place.”

“Probably built by the Princess’ line,” Adora spoke as she turned over one of her staves to the guard. They, at least, seemed to be paying attention, even if nobody searched her. _Unbelievable._ Would it really be that easy? Or was turning over weapons more a formality and _everyone_ would be armed in some way? The latter, it had to be the latter. Anything else was just… _far_ too trusting. “They control ice after all.”

“Probably, yeah. Do you think they built every building in the Kingdom, or just the palace?” Scorpia was gazing up at the ceiling while the guard tried to determine if her claws were attached or not. 

A snort ripped out her mouth, “just the palace.” They were princesses after all.

“Yeah,” Scorpia moved up and looped her arm through hers again, “you’re probably right.”

The short walk to the grand door was quiet as Adora ran through the plan again and again in her head. She’d barely gotten any sleep last night, rising early to find any points of failure and mark them in her memory, and now she was suffering for it. Tiredness tinted the edge of her thoughts, tempered only by the excitement that grew in her chest. One hand on the door; she was surprised to find it barely cold. “Ready?”

Scorpia’s smile turned sharp, “ready.”

Adora pushed open the door and the pair of them marched forward. The Ball was a riot of color and sound, like someone had poured paints on a speaker and turned it on to watch them meld together. More than anything, it reminded her of the rare times she, the cadets, and Catra would sneak off into the bowels of the Fright Zone to relax. 

The thought had her lips pursed in a thin line. “We need to greet Princess Frosta first, then split up.”

One red claw slipped through Scorpia’s hair like a ship cutting through the ocean. “Yep. Yep, got it.”

The crowd thickened around them, turning from soup to stew that vibrated with pure, static noise. Adora tightened her arm around Scorpia’s. “You got this, Force Captain.”

“Yeah,” the other woman muttered, her words snatched away and shoved into the pot of noise around them; more for herself than Adora. “Yeah,” she repeated, chin jutting out a little more this time. “I got this.”

They emerged from the crowd to face an empty throne. “Huh.”

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know, the invitation said that the hosting Princess remains enthroned to greet guests until the doors closed, but…” blond hair tickled her neck as she moved to scan the crowds.

“But we are a little late,” Scorpia finished for her. 

Adora just hummed in response and continued scanning, but even with the dais she was a little too short. “Scorpia. Do you see anything? Look for a cluster of Kingdom of Snow guards where they shouldn’t be.”

“I’ll check, yeah.” One moment, two. On the third Adora began to worry she’d missed something important. _Relax,_ a breath, _meeting with Frosta isn’t necessary anyway_. It would just be a nice bonus. The plan was still - 

“There! On the East wall!” 

Adora’s legs were moving as soon as Scorpia said the word ‘east,’ plunging them both back into the throng of people and shoving through with purpose. They emerged, much faster than the first time, to face a table covered in tiny snacks, four guards, one Princess, and Catra. 

“Adora!?” Catra spluttered, feet shifting back into a light combat stance. “What are you doing here? How did you get inside? What -” her whole form stuttered as she blinked. “What are you _wearing_?”

“Catra,” the smug smile slipped onto her lips without permission, but she wouldn’t send it away just yet. “ _Good_ to see you again.” Gray-blue eyes reluctantly turned toward the shortest person - _girl_ , she corrected with surprise - stood at the center of the guards. “Princess Frosta,” she greeted, her tone the same as when she’d speak to Shadow Weaver and her bow just as low. 

“Revered Hostess,” Scorpia was talking as she rose, voice calm but arm shaking ever so slightly. Small enough that she would’ve missed it if she hadn’t already been looking. “We come into your hall under the ancient rules of hospitality, bringing greetings from the Fright -”

A burst of purple and pink right in front of them solidified into a new Princess. It took everything Adora had to not react instinctively and tackle her to the floor. “Your majesty you _can’t_ let them in! They’re with the _Horde_!”

“ _Princess_ Scorpia was invited, she has every right to be here,” Adora argued.

“They’re up to something,“ one stubby finger from the purple one reached out to her nose - she swatted it away. “The Horde is evil. You _can’t_ let them stay.”

Frosta’s eyes narrowed, “this is my kingdom, Princess Glimmer. I can do what I like.“ The girl turned to them, face as rigid as her posture. “Under the ancient laws of hospitality I welcome you and your guest, princess Scorpia. Please, enjoy the ball.“

Both gave a short half bow, “of course, your majesty,” Scorpia’s voice was calmer and more solid than she’s ever heard it. It made her smile.

The clump of guards closed ranks around Frosta and moved off into the crowd, shuffling spears poking above the heads of mingling guests, and - after a few looks and a nod - Scorpia and the purple one split off toward the entrance. But Adora’s eyes never left the rebels.

“What are you doing here, Adora?” 

That same smile bloomed on her face at the sound of Catra’s voice. “I’m just here with my _friend_ to enjoy the ball.”

“You were late.” 

“The Fright Zone is very far away.“

“You’re never late,“ blue and yellow eyes narrowed even further. “Not unless you forget, and you wouldn’t forget the Ball.” Catra took one step closer to her, feet slipping over the ice like wind. “What are you up to?“

Something churned in her gut, bit at the edges of her thoughts like mosquitos, but she managed to answer with a winning smile. “I’m just here to talk to Princess Frosta,” Adora’s fingers snatched up a tiny, frozen cake to pop it in her mouth as she turned to follow the clump of spears. “And enjoy the food.“

Catra’s footsteps beside her were whisper soft, yet somehow like engines in her ears over the static of the Ball. She could still imagine what they sounded like gliding between green metal walls. “You think you can convince her to join the Horde,” Catra took another step closer - almost shoulder to shoulder to fit through the crowd - and Adora’s legs clenched.

Her shirt bunched around her neck as she shrugged. Always hated when collars did that. “She’d be a good ally, and the Kingdom of Snows has a lot of people in it.” Gray-blue eyes glanced at the woman in red beside her, “same reasons you want her in the Rebellion.”

It was the third time in the crowd for her, and it flowed much easier now. The rhythmic, pounding static of the ball and its attendees was no longer so overwhelming - it was actually almost pleasant; like the roar of the Fright Zone’s foundries beneath the central tower. 

“She won’t join you, you know.“

“So you think she’ll join you?“

Catra snorted, and it brought back memories. “More likely than the horde, yeah. You really think she’ll give up her power to Hodak? Because that’s what you’ll have to sell her on.“

No, she didn’t. “The Horde has a way of convincing people,” she settled on.

Beside her, Catra looked about to say something, mouth half open before it snapped shut again. A hand, clawed and very, very familiar, snatched her own and dragged her into a corner not far from Princess Frosta. “You’re on the wrong side, Adora. I know this -” she gestured to all of her “- whole ‘perfect Force Captain’ thing is important to you, but _trust me_ -” something in Adora’s chest gnashed its teeth “- staying with the Horde is a _mistake_.”

The muscles in her arm screamed as Adora’s hand snapped back to her side and contracted, loosened, contracted again. Hard enough to almost pull a muscle. “Mistake?” She tested the word, rolled it between her tongue and lips. It tasted bitter. “No. I don't think so, _Princess._ The only mistake I've made was ever thinking we were friends.” 

Catra flinched, eyes widening a little while her ears shifted back. Adora wasn’t sure if she was proud of that, even as Shadow Weaver’s voice nibbled at her. Whispering.

Maybe they never had been friends. After all, wouldn’t a friend apologize first? Want to make it up to her? 

Wouldn’t a friend have said goodbye?

“You don’t mean that,” Catra muttered, more to herself than to Adora, so soft she barely heard it. Then Adora took a step, and the wounded look on Catra’s face dissolved into a thin, hard mask. 

The rest of their walk to the Princess was silent. 

When they arrived Frosta was busy sculpting a fresh ice statue with flicks of her fingers.

“Your Majesty,” she and Catra spoke at the same time, but only Adora bowed.

Frosta waved her left hand and the circle of guards parted, “you may approach.” Her eyes did not leave the statue. 

“Lord Hordak sends his greetings, your Majesty,” Adora moved forward while Catra stayed put. “He’s very impressed by the Kingdom of Snows.”

A snort from the woman on her right. 

“Not impressed enough to come himself.”

“Lord Hordak is a very busy man and parties… don’t suit him.”

“What she means is that Hordak is still locked up in his little lab; he couldn’t care less about you or your people.”

Adora’s eye twitched. 

  
For the first time since they approached, Frosta turned to face them both. “Not like the Rebellion?”

“No, your Majesty, the Rebellion fights for every person on Etheria.” This time it was Adora’s turn to snort. The Rebellion fought only to maintain Princess power, but saying that probably wouldn’t earn her points with Frosta.

The girl’s eyes shifted between them, slow and steady, like a glacier moving through a valley. “What do you want with the Kingdom of Snows? Both of you.”

Air rushed to fill her lungs as Adora took a breath, _just like you practiced._ “The Kingdom of Snows would be a vital ally in the fight to bring order and peace to Etheria. Our tech could help your people immensely, and a united Etheria is best for all.”

Frosta didn’t move, the only evidence that she’d heard her at all a slight crease to her brows and intensity in her gaze. Then she nodded once, and turned her focus to “Princess Catra.”

“We need your help to free Etheria, your majesty. We can’t stop the Horde alone, and the Horde won’t stop until they’ve covered the planet and destroyed everything that doesn’t fit with them,” an unreadable glance toward Adora, “you can trust me on that.”

“I see.” The little bundle of glaring furs that was Princess Frosta turned back to the statue, tracing its outline with a finger. Spikes and curves and slits bloomed like flowers where she pointed. “I will think on your propositions and summon you if I have questions.”

They bowed, thanked her, and moved to let the crowd envelop them again. 

It had taken a good bit of time, so Adora couldn’t stop smiling. Now all that was left was to give them an excuse to leave early.

* * *

Catra found her on the second dance when the lights dimmed - sooner than she'd expected, turning the walls and ceiling a dark, sparkling purple - just like the night sky. With near silent footsteps, Adora didn’t realize Catra was there until there was a clawed hand digging into her waist and they were spinning into the rhythmic human clockwork.

“Where are they,” she hissed, claws piercing her waistcoat and scraping like thin little blades across her back. 

“Where’s _who_?” A shrug that rippled down her back and forced the claws out a bit. The light - low and thrumming - that erupted from the columns dyed Catra’s flowing red jumper an angry, harlequin purple.

“Don’t give me that crap -” they spun, palms flat against each other and glaring “- Glimmer and Bow. Where are they?”

“What makes you think -” a dip and twirl; Blue and yellow eyes glinted. “That I had anything to do with it?”

Catra scoffed then flowed up and behind her. Claws on her stomach, and more gripping her outstretched hand as they stepped on beat. “Oh _please_. Last I saw Glimmer -” a pair of a hundred matching steps like gunshots on the ice “- she was following your new _friend_ out of the hall. Besides, where else would they be?”

“Maybe they left without saying goodbye?” The words felt like acid on her lips, plunged a twinge through her chest, but they deepened Catra’s snarl. 

She twirled her, and Catra let go to heave a breath and glare. “What is _with_ you? Why can’t you get anything I’ve said through your thick _fucking_ head!?”

“I’m not the one who left!” The music and crowds were fading, her vision tunneling through the mountain of distractions until it was just the ice and the woman who used to be her friend. “I’m not the traitor who abandoned her friends and family for a chance at more power!”

“That’s not - I _told you_ why I left! But you _never_ listen to me!” Her teeth were close, snapping and spitting across her body. “You’re too lost in your quest to be Shadow Weaver’s perfect little Force Captain to _listen_ to anyone!”

One thundering step forward on the pounding rhythm of her heart beat, “I listen, you’re just bitter that I didn’t follow your lead out of the Horde and give up everything I worked for,” another step, “everything I _earned_.”

“Give me a break, you didn’t _earn_ any of it! Shadow Weaver dropped it on your lap like last week’s rations.” Catra was in her face, “she _gave_ it to you, just like everything else.” A clawed finger jabbed her sternum and sliced the skin, “you’re just her little science experiment.”

  
Adora’s hand snapped around Catra’s as she leant in, “a science experiment that still did better than you -“

A scream ripped from Catra’s mouth, her shoulder slamming into Adora’s chest. Back one step, two, three before the muscle memory kicked in and she twisted into the point of contact to flip Catra over her shoulder. 

Three burning lines lit up her cheek as she hurled her, twisted to throw a right hook because Catra _always_ landed on her feet -

Her fist slammed into a wall of ice that erupted from the ground like a frozen geyser, and pain arced up her arm and out her mouth with a hissed “shit!”

“Violence,” her head snapped left towards the voice where a cluster of frozen spears parted the crowd like wheat. “Is not permitted at the All-Princess Ball. Isn’t that right, Force Captain? Princess Catra?”

“Princess Frosta -”

“It was a yes or no question, Force Captain.”

“Yes.” Her mouth held a thin line even while pain knocked at her knuckles. “That’s correct.”

“Then explain to me why you two decided to be violent in _my_ palace.”

  
Adora’s mouth opened, but Catra beat her to it. “Personal matters, Princess Frosta.”

“If it’s personal then maybe you shouldn’t air it in front of the entire ball.” They both flinched, but, while Catra looked away, Adora held Frosta’s brown eyes. Hard and placid, they reminded her of the frozen surface of a river. “Guards,” Frosta turned to process back into the crowd, “escort them out.”

A squawk from her right, and then her vision was all blue and white furs and the glint of spearheads. 

The music and conversation returned to cocoon them as soon as the guards stepped up, but the people nearby were wary; there was always a three or four foot gap between their little bulbs of escorts and the rest of the ball. 

They stopped just long enough to retrieve their coats and weapons. It was hard not to be embarassed. Yes, she'd been trying to start something, but she should _not_ let Catra get under her skin that easily. Catra had always been able to do that when they were kids - one of the only people who could - but now? _No,_ she scolded herself, _you need to be better than that now._ A breath that turned into a sigh and hung there, chilled in front of her face, while her eyes scanned the coat-and-weapons check.

Catra’s sword, Adora noted, was conspicuously absent. 

* * *

“What do you _mean_ it’s _not there_? It’s a giant blue sword! How do you _lose_ that?”

“I-I don’t know! It’s listed as checked out! It’s not here!”

Checked out? Catra frowned, then whipped left toward the main doors that Adora had exited through minutes before. _While I waited on this idiot to scour the coats_. She growled and sprinted out the door, bare feet bounding down the textured steps two at a time. 

Just in time to watch a Horde ship lift out of the clouds below. Just in time to watch Adora give her a grin and a two-fingered salute, sword in hand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. Finally! Finally I’m done! I cannot put into words how much this chapter haunted me (and how much I still hate it). It was the only Season One chapter that hadn’t been at least partially written because I was dreading it. 
> 
> Princess Prom. God help me, Princess Prom. 
> 
> I love the episode of the show, but for some reason my brain just would not click at all on this chapter for the AU. I left it to come back to later, but just never could. It just sat there, mocking me with its blankness.
> 
> Until this week. Where I waffled back and forth on drafts and wrote and rewrote this chapter four times until I realized that I had to publish something so now me and y’all are stuck with this messy little thing. 
> 
> I’m definitely going to come back and rewrite this whole thing later, but I guess this’ll do for now. Sorry about sloppiness and just a general poor execution of Princess Prom. Trust me, I’m not satisfied either. 
> 
> On another note I will not be posting chapters the 25th or the 1st, unfortunately. I’m very, very sorry about that, but it’s just the way thing’s have fallen this year. Hopefully I’ll have some time to increase my written chapter buffer those two weeks, but thought I’d let y’all know ahead of time.
> 
> ALSO I THINK I CHARACTERIZED ADORA WRONG IN THIS CHAPTER UGH PLS GIVE ME FEEDBACK ON THAT.
> 
> Stay safe, and I’ll see y’all next Friday!


	4. Decisions, Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catra comes up with a plan to free Glimmer and Bow, Adora asks herself some important questions.

Adora stood at ease in the Black Garnet chamber and watched Shadow Weaver work. The woman was perfectly straight, palms flat against the runestone and utterly silent. Tendrils of electric crimson arced up her arms, writhing through the room in strobing red.

Another pulse and the sorceress loosed a near silent sigh of pleasure; Adora turned away to let her eyes drift over the walls. Toward the Princess unconscious in the corner. Her hands tightened around the hilt of that _stupid_ sword. _She left for you, huh?_ The girl didn’t look like much: short and soft, her dress in tatters.

Then her eyes trailed back down to the sword for what had to be the third time in as many minutes. Her reflection in the blade glared back up at her, eyes narrowed. _Or was it you?_

The sword did not respond. 

Static popped behind her, had both women turning to face the screen that stained the room green. She should be nervous, it was her first time seeing Hordak since he’d promoted her to Force Captain in their formal ceremony. Instead she was only excited, a smile resting easily on her lips. 

“Shadow Weaver.”

The taller woman brushed past her like an unwanted breath, setting the hairs of her forearms on end. “My Lord,” Shadow Weaver answered, planting herself dead center before the screen. 

“I commend you -” Adora glanced at the sorceress - she would mention her, “- on the capture of the Princess of Bright Moon. Queen Angella has been given until tomorrow’s moonrise to surrender herself to our forces. Victory,” the man paused to relish the word, “is within our sight.”

“Thank you, Lord Hordak,” Shadow Weaver gave a small bow, hair and dress undulating in Adora’s periphery. She had to mention her. “I thought you would be pleased with my work.”

A frown worked its way onto her face, her eyes narrowing slightly. 

“You have proven your worth to me. Today.”

The screen cut and plunged the room back into the rolling strobe of the Garnet. Adora watched the woman - incredulity roiling in her gut - take a moment to savor the praise before she turned and began floating back toward the runestone. 

She stopped halfway there. Half turned to let the edge of one eye catch Adora’s glaring gray-blue. “Is something wrong, my dear?”

“You didn’t mention me.” It was hard to keep her voice flat, to keep the petulance out of it, but it was _her_ plan. _Her_ work. 

“I did not,” Shadow Weaver confirmed, turning to face her fully now. “You must remember, Adora, you are under _my_ command; your success is _my_ success.” A few steps forward and the sorceress was within arm’s reach, a hand caressing her cheek. Adora did not want it to.

“It wouldn’t have killed you to mention my name?” The frown grew to a scowl. “I planned that mission for a week. I was _excellent_.” 

“You were, Adora, and you are. But Lord Hordak is busy, and I will not waste his time.” A pause as the hand moved back and its owner straightened, her head cocking ever so slightly and the writhing snakes of her hair moving that much faster. “If it means so much to you then I may mention your exact contributions after Angella’s surrender, but, my Adora, you have proven yourself to _me_.” The white eyes held hers, unblinking. “Is that not enough?”

It always had been before, hadn’t it? 

_No_ , she thought. “Yes,” she answered. “Sorry Shadow Weaver, I just…” a hand ran through her hair and she sighed, eyes shifting back to the Princess. They hardened. “I’m fed up with being stuck on garrison duty while -” _Catra_ “- The Rebellion is out there.”

“The burdens of command, my dear, the burdens of command.” A hand wound its way out from her robe, rested open palmed in front of her. “May I?”

Adora handed Shadow Weaver the sword, burying the rebellious, reluctant voice that didn’t want to lose her prize. The woman took it gingerly, raising it into the air so its blade was bathed in the light of the Garnet. A finger trailed down its edge, sparks dancing in its shadow.

“Once Queen Angella surrenders herself the Rebellion will be all but broken, its defeat a formality in the field.” Those eyes turned back to Adora, “and I couldn’t have done it without you, Force Captain.”

I. _I_. It was like a slap in the face. What had _she_ done? Sit here and spy all day through her little pink pools? Leech off the Garnet and scream at Catra? Adora felt the muscles in her neck tighten. Her mission. Her win. Shadow Weaver’s glory.

It felt almost like she was talking to Catra outside Salineas all over again. 

“Of course, Shadow Weaver,” Adora answered automatically, grabbing every piece of inflection in her voice and smothering it. “Of course.”

“Very good, Adora. You are dismissed. I believe our Princess has woken up, and I would so much like to introduce myself.”

Her anger only grew at the mention of Catra’s friend, and her teeth almost began to grind. “Yes, Shadow Weaver. Goodnight.”

The sorceress said something, but Adora didn’t process it, merely waiting for the moment that her attention slid fully to the Princess before her legs carried her out and up. Up toward her office. 

* * *

Catra barrelled down the hallways of Bright Moon toward the meeting chamber, ignoring guards and servants shouting in her wake. The great white doors sat open, the inside hollow save for the Queen. Her run slowed to a walk, and she tried to ignore the eyes that leered down at her from the walls, accusing. 

“Your majesty -”

“I should never have let her leave this castle.” The queen’s face was hidden behind her hands and her shoulders were bowed. The regal, frightening woman Catra had first met at Bright Moon was gone, replaced with just Angela. “I should never have let her fight this war. I should never have let her fight at all.”

“I can save them,” Catra said, shoving the fear down and taking a step forward. “Your majesty, let me go to the Fright Zone. I can bring them back.”

The Queen's hands parted a little, just enough for Catra to see her eyes. They were red and raw and held her like a vice. “So that we can lose you too? No, I won’t allow it.” The queen’s eyes slipped away to find her husband on the wall. “We have no other option, I will -

“Then I’ll take the others with me! I don’t care, I’m bringing them back.” The walls were glaring at her again and her voice broke. “I’m not leaving them behind. I won’t.”

Catra saw the woman’s muscles tense, her eyes flicker from the wall and waver. “Just give me -”

“No!” Angela shot to her feet, a chair crashing back to the floor and her wings spreading wide. “I will _not_ lose anyone else because of my cowardice. I will _not_ lose Glimmer.” She faltered, the fire dying down a bit. “If we had She-Ra…” 

Catra tried and failed to hide her flinch. _If they had someone else_ , a part of her whispered. Her eyes met the queen’s: they were blazing now and hard as stone, but she did not flinch - Angela was nothing next to Shadow Weaver.

Her leg carried her another step forward. “What’s the worst that could happen? I get captured? I don’t matter.” Another step, “the others get captured? They don’t matter!” The walls were glaring at her now, but Catra couldn’t stop if she wanted to. “The Rebellion only just found its footing again, if we lose you now…” her voice lowered, softened. “It’s over.” And the Horde would come for her. For everyone.

For a long moment the queen just stood there, rigid and breathing heavily. Knuckles whitened around the table, and neither of them blinked. Finally, a sigh ripped itself from her throat and her whole body sagged. “What do you propose?”

A primal part of Catra reveled in the win, pushed a smile onto her face. It took effort not to make it gloating - this wasn’t the Fright Zone after all. Angella wasn’t Shadow Weaver. Something she’d had to remind herself of less and less. “Let me take the other princesses, whoever wants to come. We’ll infiltrate the Fright Zone and bust Bow and Glimmer out.”

Angela’s eyes rose again, a single eyebrow raised. “You’re going to need more of a plan than that.”

Her tail swished nervously behind her. “Yeah. Yeah, I know. I’ll… I’ll work out the details later.” Thoughts drifted toward their previous plans. “It’s not like they ever work out before,” she muttered.

Angela stayed focused on her for a beat, then two. “Go,” she ordered, nodding. “You have until moonrise.”

Catra inclined her head, satisfaction, elation, and anxiety running through her in a blitz of emotion. Her feet carried her out of the meeting chamber and down the halls aimlessly until she found herself on the grand balcony. She made it two steps into the room before the weight of everything came crashing down and her back met the wall.

What the hell was she thinking? How was she going to rescue Bow and Glimmer from the Fright Zone? No She-Ra to make her powerful, just her, Catra. Maybe one or two of the Princesses if they were stupid enough to come with. 

Her head tilted back and thunked against the stone, both eyes watching the clouds roll through the sky and the songbirds flit between the rooftops. Anger bubbled up in her chest and clenched her jaw shut. Stupid. She’d been _so stupid!_ It was her fault that Bow and Glimmer were stuck in that hellhole, she was supposed to keep an eye on them, she was the soldier, she was the ‘legendary warrior She-Ra.’

Funny how she’d started to believe that. 

“So like, are you going to sit there all day or are we going to the Fright Zone?”

Her head lolled toward the source and her anger stuttered. All the Princesses plus Seahawk arrayed in the archway of the balcony. Looking at her. Looking _to_ her. It made her mind stall before it rebooted, warm with hope and something a little bit harder. “You all realize how bad an idea this is, right? I’m not She-Ra without the sword.”

Mermista just glared back at her as if that was obvious. “They took our own,” she said simply. 

“And there’s no way we’re leaving them there,” Perfuma added. 

“Adventure!” 

Catra’s jaw unclenched, a smile parting her lips. “Yeah. Alright. Time for an adventure.”

* * *

Adora glared down at the pile of ripped papers on her desk and, for the fifteenth time, tried to swallow the simmering rage that boiled under her thoughts. For the fifteenth time, it refused to go down. 

Her eyes narrowed and her shoulders went rigid, looking at the notes and sketches, but not really seeing.

A knock at the door, and the prospect of one of her troops seeing her like this was enough to force the rage back a bit. “Come in,” she grunted, still glaring at the table between her palms. 

“Hey, Adora! Just swingin’ by to see - oh.” Scorpia’s footsteps stopped just before her desk, but she couldn’t bring herself to look up just yet. “You don’t look very happy. What’s wrong?”

What _was_ wrong? Shadow Weaver was right, as a soldier her successes were her commanding officer’s successes, even if tangentially. But still, she expected a _little_ credit, a _little_ recognition. 

_You got some_ , a part of her mind whispered, _from Shadow Weaver_.

The thought forced her lips down into a scowl. 

“Adora?”

“Shadow Weaver didn’t even mention us,” she spat and pushed off the table to look towards Scorpia. “Not one name, not even in passing.”

“Oh. That’s…” unfair? Wrong? Selfish? Her mind was taking the pause and running with it. “Not really a surprise I guess,” Scorpia finished.

Adora blinked at the other woman. 

“I mean, it’s Shadow Weaver, right? That’s just, well, just how she is.”

Adora broke eye contact to stare at the one remaining wall with notes and plans on it, the one all about their escape. She’d not torn them up yet - if only because a part of her was waiting for Hordak to swing by and ask her all about her process. 

A _stupid_ part. 

What had she expected from the woman? That Shadow Weaver would gracefully recognize her in front of the Lord of the Horde and let her slip past to being equals? That with Force Captain came independence?

Humiliation. Shame. Anger. All three swelled up to form an orchestra in her breast because she _had_ expected that. Despite what everyone told her, despite what Shadow Weaver showed her, despite her own experiences. 

Did Shadow Weaver even care for her? Or was it only ever about what Adora could do for Shadow Weaver’s power?

_Idiot._ _You let your guard down again, just like with Catra_. She’d given someone the opportunity, and they’d taken it. 

A claw resting on her shoulder broke her thoughts and yanked her back to reality. She was heaving, posture rigid and eyes staring out the window over the smog covered Fright Zone. “Hey. You okay?”

“I just -,” a sigh as she tried to force everything down, only to have it barely budge. “I expected more.”

“Well,” the claw patted her shoulder, “That was… Shadow Weaver is Shadow Weaver. She’s always been like that. It’s a little dumb to expect her to change so much y’know?”

Adora felt her body lock, the words hitting her like a hammerblow and ringing through her head. “Yeah. It was.” She turned and strode to the door, Scorpia trailing behind her with question after question that she couldn’t process. “Just.” They stopped. “Just patrol the perimeter for now, Scorpia. Okay?”

She saw a body stop in her periphery, but she couldn’t hold her eyes. Not with all the humiliation. “Okay. Are you sure you don’t want some company?”

“I’ll be fine, Force Captain.” She spoke it with a certainty as solid as the steel beneath them. She _would_ be. She’d learn. She had to. “I just need a moment.”

A silence that Adora took as understanding, and her feet carried her off into the tower.

Her first stop was the armory, then the sparring arena, but when she arrived one of her squads was using it for maneuvering practice. They gave her a sharp salute that she returned and picked up their pace. She left when they weren’t looking.

There was no particular destination, no specific place. She was just walking. Walking to burn away the energy, walking to place more time between her and her embarrassment. The walls around her turned from neat alloy to crumbling stone and shadowed pipes. Without meaning to, she wandered her way into the holding cells, passing by Lonnie with only one of them noticing. 

Her feet stopped at the edge, head looking over and down into the pit. How far down did it go? She and Cat- she’d never been able to figure it out. It seemed infinite from up here. How many people could this place hold? Her eyes counted the cells on the top ring, then down onto the second. 

She only knew one. 

Her brows lowered and her frown returned while her legs carried her onto the platform and down toward the twentieth sub-level. She’d learned it from a report that had slid past her desk the day after the Ball. Memorized it. Just in case. 

The platform stopped with a whir and a hiss before spinning round slowly to form a bridge to the specific cell. Inside was a boy, dark skinned and wearing a tattered tuxedo. Brooding. Or maybe sulking. He sighed when the platform stopped. “Look Kyle, I get that -” his mouth froze when his eyes landed on her, and she raised a single eyebrow. 

“Go on,” her shoulder met the steel of the prison’s frame as she leant against it.

The boy only glared at her. 

“Whatever you can tell Kyle you can tell me.” The anger and shame in her gut eased at the boy’s glare, even if only barely. “I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”

“Did you order someone to tell you that?”

“No,” she snorted, “but that would be a little fun. Someone I knew told me it a few years back.” Someone they both had known. The boy’s lips pressed into a thin line, eyes shifting back to glare at the ground. 

A second of silence, then ten, then twenty. She spent it studying the tears on his suit and the scuff marks on the floor. “Enjoying your stay?”

“Would you care if I said no?”

She shrugged, “not really.”

Brown eyes rose to meet hers. They were narrowed and angry. “Then I’m just _loving_ it, thanks.”

Her own anger eased that much more. “I’m glad. The Horde strives to treat its prisoners fairly.”

This time it was Bow’s turn to snort. “Like the Horde has ever treated anyone fairly.”

“Anyone who joins willingly is.”

“And what if they don’t want to join willingly? What then?” He rose from his seat to stare at her through the green barrier with fists clenched. “Does the Horde still treat them fairly?”

“Then they join unwillingly. But they still get treated alright. We’re all Horde, after all.” The muscles in her neck were slowly loosening, the frown dying to upturned lips. 

The archer sneered at her. “You don’t see anything wrong with that?”

Gray-blue eyes held his for a moment before looking him up and down. “No. I don’t.” Maybe if she’d been raised elsewhere she could afford that luxury, maybe if she wasn’t a soldier. Maybe if Shadow Weaver wasn’t right, maybe if she hadn’t realized that she could only look out for a few people in this world, maybe if she was an idiot. Maybe if it wasn’t a distraction. Maybe if everyone wasn’t depending on her. “Besides, the more that join unwillingly then the more get scared and join willingly. All your Rebellion is doing is drawing it out and making it harder for everyone before the end.”

Bow just stared at her. Slowly, his fists loosened and he shook his head. “How you and Catra were ever friends is beyond me.”

Just like that her upturned lips snapped down and her tenseness came shooting back through her body. “We weren’t.” Her voice was almost a growl. “She made that clear.”

“She left to help people, no friend is worth how many innocents the Horde hurts.”

  
  
“She _left_ ,” her voice a full growl now, “because she would gain more if she won as a Princess than won with the Horde.” Catra had always been selfish, just like Shadow Weaver said. _Just like she said_ , she told herself. “She’s a traitor and a liar.”

“Catra is a _good person_ ; she’s my friend,” Bow spoke, face hard and brows drawn low. 

“Then she’s lying to you too,” Adora hissed, lingering a moment to glare the boy down before she spun around toward the panel to summon her lift. Hydraulics hissed and whirred somewhere above them, drowning out the interminable hum of force shields that enveloped the prison and underlined their conversation. “If she comes back - and that’s an _if_ \- then she’ll come back for her sword.” The lift lowered and she stepped on, one fist opening and closing. “Not for you.”

Catra didn’t come back for people, Adora knew that from experience. 

* * *

Catra typed as quickly as she could, digging through the Horde Prisoner Roster while the princesses swept the room behind her. Finally, after a minute of waiting, the query returned with a cell number and level.

  
  
“Alright, Bow is in Section B, level twenty, number…” she narrowed her eyes at the screen. “11-2139. Sheesh, always with the compound numbers. Entrapta!” Catra whipped around, her voice snapping the Princess out of her tech-induced drooling. “Can you get us there?”

  
  
“Yeah! Maybe! I dunno, but I’ll try!”

Catra grunted. “I guess that’s better than nothing. Perfuma, Seahawke, you’re with me. Mermista -”

“I’ll stay with this one in case she tries to befriend another robot or something,” Mermista said, arms crossed, from beside the Princess. Entrapta was too enraptured by the control panel to even hear her. 

“Got it. Let’s go you two,” she gestured to her pair before passing through the doorframe and back onto the lift platform. A quick nod to Entrapta and they were shooting through the air. 

Only they were going up.

“Entrapta!” Catra yelped and teetered backwards, windmilling her arms to stay steady. “This is _not down!_ ”

Air whipped around her, yelling in her ears and forcing Seahawk and Perfuma to the ground before the platform froze. Three simultaneous thunks echoed through the prison as all three of them tipped forward onto their knees. 

“Adve-oh, I think I might be sick…”

“No! No, no, no! Not near me!” Perfuma scrabbled along the platform behind her. 

“Will the two of you,” Catra shoved off the ground, scowling. “Just -” Catra’s mind ground to a halt mid-stand. There, directly across from her, with her baton drawn and shock on her face, was Lonnie. 

“Catra?!” The Horde soldier’s shock turned to anger, brows twisting down and a snarl dominating her face. A beat where Catra was just blinking in surprise - _of course_ it would be her luck to have Lonnie and crew on guard duty today. Then her old friend was closing the gap between them with a leap, baton smashing into the ground where she’d been. 

Green crackled past her stomach as she dodged backward, Lonnie pushing her back toward the edge. “You think you can just come back here?”

“Trust me,” Catra slipped forward, wrapped an arm around Lonnie’s shoulder, and dragged her to the floor, “I’m not happy about it.”

The back of Lonnie’s fist hit her jaw with a crack and they separated. “Come for your new friends, Catra?” Lonnie rushed forward with a right hook. “Come back for them, but not for us, huh?”

“Yeah,” she growled, “I did.”

* * *

Catra jumped the last ten feet from the lift platform to Bow’s cell, rolling as she hit the ground. Kyle just had time to turn and say her name before she yanked him back into Perfuma and Seahawke; they launched him up and over onto the platform with her old squad. 

“Catra!” Bow’s hand snapped out to her, stopping only just shy of the shimmering green forcefield. “How did you get in here?”

Seahawke shut down the field just in time for Bow to launch at her and envelop her in a hug. She was surprised to find herself returning it. “Are you kidding me? I know a thousand ways in and out of this place,” he pulled away, both hands resting on her shoulders. “It was easy,” she said with a cocky smile. 

For a moment he returned it, but it vanished under a sweep of concern that shrouded his face. “Shadow Weaver has Glimmer. I’m not sure where - I couldn’t find out. But I know she has her.”

Catra felt the blood drain from her face. “It’s okay,” she told him, “I know where she’ll be keeping Glimmer.” There was only one place Shadow Weaver would store a Princess. 

It turned her blood to ice, right before an alarm had it heating up again.

* * *

Adora was in her office glaring at maps of the Whispering Woods and this week’s training reports when the tower alarm bathed the room in red. Her head snapped up, Catra’s name slipping past her lips in a gasp. It was the only thing that could cause this.

She sprinted out of the room and down, linking up with a squad of half-dressed recruits that lagged behind her. Down, down, down, her feet carried her. There was only one place Catra would be going. Only one thing she’d be after. Adora skidded to a stop outside the Black Garnet chamber, a quick barked order to the recruits having them continue down the halls toward the perimeter.

The doors opened silently. “Shadow Weaver!” Adora called, right as the alarm stopped. Her eyes flicked up and she frowned at the now silent sirens. Had they gotten away? Had they been captured? A quick scan of the room showed no sword - hopefully still locked in Shadow Weaver’s armory .

“Ah, Adora, there you are. I was wondering how long it would take you to arrive with that racket.” The woman floated out from behind the Black Garnet, electricity coursing up her arms. “I just received word that Catra has been captured, and the guards are bringing her here now. Stay a moment, if you will?”

“I -” her mind was a flurry of thoughts and emotions flitting by so fast she barely got a glimpse of them before they rocketed past and behind her. Left her befuddled and almost numb. “Yes, Shadow Weaver.” 

Her back met the wall, and she waited. Thought. 

The speed of her thoughts had barely slowed by the time the doors hissed open and Catra was escorted into the room. “Glimmer?”

  
  
The Princess moaned an incoherent response.

  
  
“Glimmer!” Catra writhed in the guards hands, but bound as she was it was only an inconvenience. Adora watched them plant her on a table and belt her down, watched them leave from her periphery as Catra ranted. “What did you do to her, Shadow Weaver?! What did you do?!”

It would’ve seemed brave if Adora couldn’t hear the panic in her voice. Would the woman have acted that same way if it was Adora chained up there and not a Princess?

She buried the thought almost as soon as it came up, as soon as it stung. No, Catra wouldn’t. Her ‘friend’ had proven that much when she’d left, when she’d abandoned everything they’d worked for and promised each other for a shiny sword and a bit more power. 

If it was Adora there then Catra wouldn’t give a shit. Catra would never have come.

“Be quiet!” Shadow Weaver hissed as she floated up from beside Adora. She felt her muscles tense where the wayward cloth brushed her arm, and she watched the sorceress’ voice do the same to Catra on the table. 

Sympathy wormed its way into her mind and clung there, no matter how she tried to shake it loose. 

“Oh Catra,” the woman flinched at her own name, and again when Shadow Weaver snatched her jaw in one hand. “You _really_ should not have come back, my dear. But, then again, you never were the brightest were you?” A deceptively soft tutting filled the room, and Adora found herself watching the wall instead. 

“Adora.”

“Ma’am,” she answered, legs carrying her forward. Her eyes met Catra’s for a moment before snapping away. She couldn’t tell who did it first. 

“Bring me the sword from the armory if you would, hm?” Shadow Weaver didn’t even turn to face her, too preoccupied with staring down Catra. Catra, who was ever so slightly trembling. 

“If you -” Catra’s voice broke. “If you let Glimmer go I will tell you _everything_ about the sword. About She-Ra.” Adora watched one of Catra’s fists clench and the trembling stop. “Just let her go.”

“Catra,” the Princess groaned from the corner, “no…”

“You are hardly in a position to _offer me_ anything, Catra. What I want from your mind I will _take_ , what I need from your body I will _take_. Everything you know will be mine, regardless of if you offer it or not.” The sorceress leant forward to brush a stray hair from Catra’s shaking face. “Until there is nothing left.”

Adora’s blood ran cold, and a pit opened in her stomach. Her mind swirled with clashing, contradictory thoughts. This was wrong. This was what she deserved. This was _wrong_. This… it…

“Adora.” 

Her head snapped up, and this time she held Catra’s shaking gaze. “The sword.”

“Don’t kill her.” She practically vomited the words all over the floor. 

Shadow Weaver stilled. Turned, very, very slowly. “Excuse me, Adora? Was that an _order_?”

The pit in her stomach grew even more. “No, Shadow Weaver. Never. I just… please.” She met the spot where the woman’s eyes should be and watched them narrow. 

Shadow Weaver was silent for a long moment, the only sounds in the room the soft, faint breaths of the Princess and the steady hum of the Garnet. 

“I will not make deliberate effort to spare the life of one so… pathetic. But,” Shadow Weaver broke eye contact to glare down at the traitor. “I will not outright kill her either. Lord Hordak, however, will feel differently. Don’t expect her to live long, dear. If she survives this.”

One blue eye, one yellow. She looked at them, counted the specks of dirt on her cheeks and the fresh scratches and flecks of blood. Then she turned away, opened the door, and slipped into the hall. 

Catra’s screams followed her.

* * *

Fury, disgust, hurt. They warred in her chest as she processed back to Shadow Weaver’s chamber, sword in hand. Catra deserved this, didn’t she? Catra left her, left them all, and for what? ‘Better’ friends and power and a sword that changed her clothes and-and-

And the screaming was silent, the door to the Black Garnet Chamber wide open. Her steps quickened until she was standing in the doorframe looking in, the hum of the Garnet barely audible and traitor and Princess both absent. 

She turned around. There were three hallways they could’ve gone down, one of which she’d come from. The other led straight to the barracks. It had to be the left, down to the motor pool and the ground-floor armory. 

If she ever knew Catra then she knew exactly what path the pair would be taking from there. Adora sprinted left. Through maintenance hallways and backpaths, down steps and ladders and ramps. The alloy on the wall began to spot, and then overflow with dust and rust and disuse, the lights flickering or off entirely above. They were shafts that she and Catra would play hide and seek in, would stash their stolen extra rations, would come here to - rarely - cry. 

And now Catra was using them for the Rebellion. It felt like a slap in the face, tainting the memories with bitterness. 

Her feet pounded on the metal, echoing down the halls until another sound fought back. Voices. Two of them. Her pace slowed until she was walking. 

“Glimmer! Glimmer, what’s wrong?”

  
  
“I don’t know, but I can’t,” a long, rattling breath that bounced from wall to wall, “I can’t teleport.”

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit! There’s got to be a way around this door, come on, we’re not -” the voice stuttered, Adora's footsteps overriding it for a moment in their little metal amplifier. “Who’s there?”

From inside her shaded nook of old hallway, Adora watched Catra shove the teleporter behind her. An ugly feeling rose in her chest. And another step out from the shadow only had it growing when she held Catra’s eyes. They were furious. “Adora,” the woman hissed.

She swept the sword out and shoved it into the ground at her side, even while that feeling grew and grew and grew until it was knocking on the back of her teeth with a scream. She was just _standing_ there, trembling with pain, and Adora _hated_ it.

  
  
She’d put herself through hell, she’d gotten tortured by Shadow Weaver and risked _everything_ for the Rebellion because Catra just _had_ to come back. 

For _them._

If she captured the two now - which would be trivial in their state - Shadow Weaver would kill them both out of petty revenge. Did she want that? 

She hated them right now. She knew that. Felt it in waves as it rolled up her gut. She hated herself too for only doing what Shadow Weaver told her. For letting her guard down for either of them and trusting them. She took a deep, hissed breath through her teeth and watched her. 

Did she want Catra dead?

Eliminate distractions. That’s what Shadow Weaver always said. 

Eliminate distractions. 

Adora raised the sword and flipped it so it was hilt first toward Catra. Laying there in her outstretched hand. 

Catra just stared at it, at her, mouth gaping.

“Take it.” Catra just stood there, one arm outstretched in front of Glimmer and perfectly still. “Well?”

“Wha-” her eyes narrowed and the shock gave way to suspicion. “What are you doing?”

Adora raised an eyebrow, and for a moment it was just the two of them, no war in the way. “What does it look like?” Then the bitterness came rolling back to harden her face. “Just take it and go.”

One step, then two. Then Catra’s hand reached out and snatched the sword so fast she would’ve missed it if she blinked. Only when she held it did the tension bleed from Catra's shoulders. Adora watched her turn to the Princess, face softening into a smile. 

It looked like she’d forgotten Adora was even there.

“For the honor of Greyskull!” 

Light filled the room, and Adora didn’t stay to watch the show. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Sorry about the late chapter, wasn’t about to get around to proofreading this one until this evening due to packing. As such I’m still not sure I’m satisfied with it. Wasn’t really when I wrote it, and am not too much no either with still minimal edits. Tell me what y’all think, seriously. I worry about the prose and characterization in this chapter mostly, and repeated words.
> 
> I also worry a bit about this chapter retreading ground. Part of what I’m proud about this fic is things are different but not unrecognizable. This chapter however is… a bit more similar to its source material than the last two were I think. I worry about that. I worry about the chapter and the characterizations in this chapter - mostly about Adora's realization about Shadow Weaver being too abrupt relative to the rest of the story. Ugh. I just worry, y’know?
> 
> Anyway, a reminder that I WILL NOT BE POSTING CHAPTERS NEXT WEEK OR THE WEEK AFTER. That’s the 25th and the 1st for this fic. Sorry about that, just the way things fell this year. 
> 
> Stay safe, y’all, and I’ll see you in 2021!


	5. Family Matters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adora learns what "family" means to Shadow Weaver. Catra decides she has friends. 
> 
> Heads up, this chapter contains explicit physical abuse. Skip to Catra's perspective if you don't want to read that.

“The very day you proved your worth, Shadow Weaver,” the growl trickled to Adora’s ear through the cracks in the Black Garnet Chamber’s door. “You lost it. Tell me, are you _trying_ to fail, or are you just that incompetent?”

Adora flinched as if the words were to her. They may as well have been, it was her failing after all: she let Catra and Glimmer escape. Not that anyone knew. 

“My Lord,” Shadow Weaver’s voice was as close to desperate as she’d ever heard it. Cornered. Wounded. 

Another flinch. That was her fault too. 

“My Lord I swear to you they could not have gotten far, I-I will send out a company now! Track them down before they -”

“Enough.” The single word slammed against the wall with the weight of a body. Smashing through the cracks in the door, it bounced down the hallways all around her. “The Perimeter Outposts have already sent word of an unscheduled skiff slipping into the woods between their lines. They are gone. And yet you remain. Empty-handed. Worthless.”

“I remain to serve you, My Lord.” Shadow Weaver’s voice was muffled, as if she was talking to the floor or through a bundle of cloth. It was a rare tone that Adora only ever heard when the woman was kneeling. “Only ever to serve you and the Horde.”

“By huddling next to my Runestone and using its power to spy with all the talent of a blind man; by chasing pointless schemes and artifacts!” Another echo roaring down the corridor, tinged with blown out static and churning Adora’s guilt. _Your fault_. “The more I consider the more I struggle to recall anything _useful_ you have done. And I do not abide useless things.”

“My Lord,” there was fear in her voice. She could hear it. She could feel its twin thump in her chest. “I have lived to serve you since I arrived. I have taken _every effort_ to destroy our enemies in your name. In the Horde’s name! I work tirelessly to advance our goals, to crush the Rebellion. I promise I will _not_ fail again.”

Silence. It seemed to reach through the cracks, curl its fingers into her skin, and twine her guts into knots. What would Hordak say? What would she do without Shadow Weaver? Her feelings on the woman had only been getting more and more mixed and yet… yet she couldn’t help but love her. Despite everything, the woman was still family. Wasn’t she?

“No,” Hordak said, the static sharpening his voice to a low, steely blade. “You will not.”

Speakers popped as the screen cut, and Adora tried to force her attention down the hallway to make it seem like she hadn’t been listening. Guilt gnawed at her, locked her arms over one another on her chest and turned her back rigid against the softly humming wall.

It was her fault. Whatever happened to Shadow Weaver was her fault. All because she’d _let them_ _go_.

The doors hissed open next to her and Adora snapped to attention on reflex, arms held behind her back. Twin white dots burned in her mask like the barrels of little cannons; the woman’s posture was dangerously still, and crackling with energy. 

“Inside.”

Shadow Weaver didn’t look back, just stalked up to the Black Garnet and stared at it. A flickering shadow framed in red. Her only movement was the ragged heaving of her chest. Erratic and swelling. 

Adora was a meter behind her, bathed in crimson and trying hard not to feel afraid. _Shadow Weaver would never hurt you_ , she reminded herself, _never._

Another beat of silence while teeth chewed the inside of her cheek. 

She should say something. This was all her fault, after all. Even if the woman didn’t know it - couldn’t know it. Caution and experience tried to hold her back - it was best not to do anything at all when Shadow Weaver was in one of her states, that much Catra had shown her. It would just make you a target.

_But this…_ guilt stabbed her on every silent breath, whispering in the back of her head, reminding her. _Shadow Weaver would never hurt you_.

“Shadow -”

The woman roared and burst into black flame. A raw, tearing scream cutting through the room as a hand snapped out and sent crimson lightning lancing into the wall. It froze for a moment, an image seared into her eyes, before it burst with a thunderclap that filled her chest and ruffled her hair. 

Another scream, another burst, another ripple of wind that whispered that she could be next. _No,_ she thought, fighting the urge to step back as another explosion rocked the wall behind her head, _Shadow Weaver would never hurt -_

“ _You!_ ” Eyes white like fire, wide and almost frothing. “Is this what you wanted, _girl_?” Another burst of lightning that left red phantom streaks dancing across her vision before midnight fire rolled over the Runestone and everything went black. 

“To _humiliate_ me in front of Hordak?” The voice came from her left and circled her like a shark, but Adora wouldn’t break attention. Wouldn’t stop staring straight ahead. “You think I haven’t seen your ambition, _Adora?_ ” It was a whisper in her ear from the dark.

She swallowed the whimper, but her hands were trembling. 

“Your open lust for glory? For power beyond… me?” A flash of crimson and Shadow Weaver’s face was an inch from hers. So close she could feel her breath through the mask. 

A scream ripped its way up her throat before she could stop it, shattering the remnants of her calm like old glass. Rubber squeaked against the floor as her legs carried her backward in an aimless, desperate stumble; her brain ordering her to _get away_. “No, Shadow Weaver!” What did she mean?! What did she want?!

Adora had no idea what it was she was denying, only that, all of a sudden, it felt like her life depended on it. 

“ _Liar!_ ” 

A blast of something so cold it burned caught her in the chest and froze her to floor. Her eyes were wide, but she _couldn’t see_. There was only pitch black and a phantom crimson mask. 

All of her muscles were pins and needles and numbness. They wouldn’t move. Something was squeezing every inch of her, making it harder and harder to breathe and-and- 

She _couldn’t move._

“You want my Runestone! My power! My position! -” she tried to say no, but it came out a garbled cough between deadened lips. “After I _raised_ you! After I put _everything_ into you!”

“No,” she forced it from her throat and hacked it all over the floor, but it wasn’t _enough_. It wasn’t _enough_ , and she could feel the phantom grip squeezing tighter and tighter and tighter. “No, Shadow Weaver, no -”

“You like seeing me like this, don’t you, Adora? Does it bring you _joy?!_ ”

A thunderclap and then the grasp was electric. It danced up her body in a chorus of pain, but the bind was so tight her muscles couldn’t even spasm. It was in her skull in a blink, a crackling tendril of red burning behind her eyes. She gasped in pain, and the words came tumbling out with it. “No, Shadow Weaver! I’m sorry, I-I don’t- I’m sorry!” She knew what she’d done, but the fear wouldn’t let her say it.

Shadow Weaver would kill her. 

Light came rushing back so fast it blinded her. She blinked, waited for it to solidify into an explosion that threw her against the wall like a crumpled napkin, but nothing came. It was just… just the Runestone. 

The grip vanished, and Adora pitched forward.

“Shh, shh, shh,” a hand looped under her left arm and caught her while another settled on her back to rub slow, gentle circles. They only made her shake harder. “There, there, Adora.” Her eyes followed the voice’s lilting trail up to Shadow Weaver’s mask. The eyes were soft. Calm. Like she remembered from when she was a kid. “I believe you.”

She was standing, but didn’t remember getting up. Ozone, sharp and pungent, slithered through her nose into her lungs. The hand under her arm slid up and over, rubbed her bicep before it moved to run two spindly fingers through her hair.

The touch made her freeze. 

“It’s okay, I forgive you.” She looked at Shadow Weaver’s eyes without really seeing. Black hair danced like worms in the background. “Ambition is only natural, and it is expected for the student to want to surpass the teacher, is it not?”

Two seconds after she said it Adora realized Shadow Weaver was waiting for a response. Her head moved on its own in a jerky nod. 

"I know, I know. But just remember, my dear Adora,” one hand continued to rub gooseflesh through her scalp while a finger, pointed and delicate, traced the curve of her cheekbones. “I gave you everything, so everything you can give is mine.”

Another nod without her input while she struggled to shove the awareness of-of _everything_ down. The world - it was too sharp. Too present. 

“Very good,” Shadow Weaver withdrew, and Adora forced herself to leash the breath she’d been holding. Anything could set her off again. “You are dismissed, Force Captain.”

A choppy bow that held for a moment longer than usual before she about-faced and marched out of the room. Her form stiff as the walls around her. The doors whispered shut, and her whole body spasmed loose of her grip, the breath breaking free of its leash and spilling across the floor like vomit. 

The pain rushed to return too, now that the adrenaline was fading. It was nothing, _should have been_ nothing, but it beat a relentless reminder that… that it was real. That what Shadow Weaver did wasn’t just a nightmare. 

It was real. 

Adora forced her way into her office, steps beating an uneven rhythm into the floor as she wound through the mess of plans and into her personal bathroom. She turned on the faucet, clenched the countertop, and listened to it run.

* * *

Catra sat against the wall and glared at the softly glowing sword in her hand. A pale, gentle blue tinged with gold from the setting sun. She tilted the blade this way and that, watched the mirror of light it reflected slide along the walls and ceiling. It stopped, and she raised it in front of her face. 

The woman in the sword was scowling. One imperfection on a face that was - literally - radiant. 

A burst of light and the woman was gone. The scowl was still there, but it wasn’t alone anymore. Deep bags under her eyes, matted hair, a persistent tremble in her hand that had the reflection quivering. 

And there was the invisible too.

Weakness, aches, and cramps all across her body. A spike of pain in her skull that pulsed on every heartbeat - like someone had scooped out half her brain and replaced it with molten lead. It’d only gotten worse when she’d tried to heal Glimmer. 

Her knuckles went white around the hilt as the reflection’s eyes narrowed. 

_Get up_ , a voice whispered in her head. The same one that had always dragged her off her ass during sparring. The same one that had woken her first thing in the morning when all she wanted to do was stay there and sleep.

Catra refused to recognize it. Chose to glower at the woman in the sword. Hoping against hope that if she did it enough then something would change. 

She was afraid. That was the truth. The ugly, _pathetic_ truth. Afraid of what would happen if She-Ra failed to heal Glimmer. Afraid of what would happen if She-Ra failed to beat the Horde. Catra alone wasn’t good enough, Entrapta’s death had proved that much.

And now Catra was petrified that even She-Ra’s power might not be enough to save her friend. One of her only friends. 

Catra stood, raised the sword, and let light fill the hallway. She trudged back to Glimmer’s room - ignoring the protests of the guards posted outside her door and the way her shoulder threatened to buckle when it hit the wood. 

Slow, plodding steps toward the bundle of blankets, torn clothes, and bruises that was Glimmer. Her breathing was ragged and heavy. Dangerously close to a rattle. 

Catra knelt - her legs screaming - and focused.

Pain, at least, she wasn’t afraid of.

* * *

Left hook, sidestep, jab, jab, uppercut. 

The punching bag rippled and swung back, and her foot caught it on the backswing with an axe kick. Step forward, crouch low, right hook - her fist met the leather and she reveled in the burst of soreness that wound its way up her arm - spin into left jab. 

Left jab twice, step into guard - sweat ran down her face in familiar rivers - right uppercut, knee.

Right hook, elbow - her back whined in protest. 

Mix up, repeat. Again. 

The lights hummed above her, casting the weight room in a dead white that washed colors away as much as it illuminated. Empty. Save for her. 

Right hook, headbutt, roundhouse. _Again._

Another swirl of soreness that licked at the edge of her thoughts, another flurry of punches and kicks that thwacked against leather and sent it reeling back. 

**_Again._ **

Left hook, left hook, left hook, _left hook_. 

Pain - pure and focusing - lit up her arm and dragged a gasp from her throat. Her forehead hit the bag a second later and they both stilled. Adora watched the beads of sweat trickle down her arms and cheek to vanish into the tile. Breathed in. Counted them. Breathed out. 

After a minute they’d coalesced into shallow puddles that transformed the scuffs on the tile into causeways. Gray-blue eyes traced their path all the way to the edges of the room before she sighed, pushed off the punching bag, and staggered, wincing, over toward the showers. 

It was sometime after midnight and she was the only one in the gym. She’d slipped in after the water in her room had shut off, skipping straight over dinner and her usual training with Scorpia. 

The other Force Captain may have knocked on her door to check on her, but Adora couldn’t really remember. 

Fingers found the cold metal of the shower faucet and turned it as hot as it could go. Her back found the wall and slid down until she was sat, elbows on the tops of her knees and water pooling between her hips. 

Her body was thankful for the rest, but it proved a gap in the soreness that let her thoughts filter back to Shadow Weaver.

Shadow Weaver. Was she family? Ask her that question this morning and she would’ve answered yes without hesitation. Now…

Would family hurt her like that?

_One time_ , a voice whispered, _she raised you and gave you everything, and you’re doubting her over_ one _mistake?_

It didn’t seem fair, did it? But, then again, Adora had been having a lot of doubts over family lately. 

It seemed none of them placed the same weight on it as she did. It seemed like -

Something heavy and metal crashed in the locker room, a muffled “oomph” in its wake. 

Adora shot up, moving toward the edge of the showers and snapping a towel around her waist as she did, pains shoved to the back of her mind. Whichever cadets had decided to sneak away for some personal time were about to have a very, _very_ bad night. 

She rounded the corner with her best Force Captain glare on her face, “name, rank, and -”

Gray-blue eyes met a pair of wide almost-red, and her body reacted. One hand snapped out and gripped the unknown’s collar before she pinned her against the wall, forearm flat across her throat. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

“Oooo,” a bundle of purple hair raised in Adora’s periphery, pinging a distant feeling of familiarity. In its ‘hand’ was a recorder. The hair clicked a button. “Fright Zone Log: Hour forty-one. My nightly foray through the Fright Zone’s ventilation shafts has culminated in what appears to be a room for… for…” the short woman - almost half her height, maybe less - pursed her lips, the other tail of hair slithering over Adora’s forearm to rub the unknown’s chin. “What’s this room for?”

The woman’s face was entirely, utterly, sincere.

Adora blinked. 

“It’s the locker room - wait,” she frowned. “No. _No_. How did you get in here?”

Lilac eyes danced away from hers, flitting from object to object all round them, but never staying longer than a few seconds. “Entrapta. And I got here with my friends: Catra, Glimmer, and Bow.” A pause. “Can you put me down now? I want to examine the structural makeup of your ‘locker room.’”

That ping of familiarity at the edge of her mind came ripping back with memories of the All-Princess Ball, and fleeting images from her planning of a short, reclusive, lavender figure. 

A Princess. She had a Princess.

For the first time since this afternoon, Adora smiled.

* * *

She was still preening from Hordak’s praise when she dragged Entrapta into a sideroom for interrogation. 

_‘Well done, Force Captain. Perhaps something might be salvaged from Shadow Weaver’s mess after all.’_

Her smile grew wider, even while the Princess babbled and tugged against her arm to go inspect the door systems. ‘ _Well done, Force Captain.’_

Gauntleted hands pinned the Princess to the wall, one moving to each wrist in turns to cuff her. “Oh! Oh! What alloy is this? It looks foreign to Etheria.” Hair flowed up to the cuff and slipped into the lock. “Oh! Not _entirely_ foreign to Etheria, is it? It almost -”

The lock popped open right as Adora slapped the hair away. “Stop that,” she ordered, ignoring Scorpia’s muttered ‘she probably won’t’ behind her. “Now,” she stepped back and drew the baton in one motion, flicking it on and watching the Princess’ eyes go wide at its hum.

She would’ve thought it was fear if her eyes weren’t sparkling.

“Tell me what you’re doing in the Fright Zone.”

Entrapta wasn’t even looking at her, gaze alternating between the glowing baton and the lock-unlock loop of the cuff that Adora had chosen to ignore for the sake of her own dignity. “I told you already. I came here with my friends,” the woman said it like it was an afterthought. “Can I -”

“No,” her voice was a growl as her hand smacked away the tentacle of hair winding its way toward her weapon. She sighed, pinched the bridge of her nose. “Tell me what you’re _still_ doing in the Fright Zone. Why you were hiding in the vents.” She had to be so deliberate in her phrasing; it was like she was talking to the orphans or the cadets. 

“Oh, that. I’m just waiting for my friends to get back,” Entrapta said with an earnest smile. “They weren’t very good at finding me before, so I figured I’d just stay put right here.”

Adora just cocked her head to the right that little bit as something wriggled around in her chest.

“It’s actually been quite fascinating! Your tech is _remarkable_ and you have so many nooks and crannies to run experiments in! Speaking of which -” Entrapta’s head whipped to Scorpia, ignorant of Adora searching her face. “Your tail secretes some sort of paralyzing agent, right?” She slipped forward off the wall, hair grabbing Scorpia’s tail to move it closer to her face. “Can I have some? To study?”

Scorpia’s tail snapped backwards so fast Adora would’ve missed it if she blinked. “What?! No! And you can’t just grab a girl’s tail without asking!”

Entrapta didn’t look like she cared. 

Adora thumbed the baton to power off, flipping it deftly so that it was haft first in her outstretched hand. Both their gazes moved to her, but Adora didn’t really notice. She’d finally pinned down the writhing in her gut. 

It was empathy.

“They left you behind.” It was only half a question, but the way the words had Entrapta shivering and snapping her visor down was enough answer. 

“No. No, they’re my friends, they’ll be back.” The Princess faced Adora when she said it, hair freezing over the already partially disassembled baton in her ‘hand.’ But the words weren’t for her.

“They won’t.” Her tone was certain, left no room for doubt; so much so that it sent another jolt through the woman. A jolt that had her curling up into herself that little bit more. “Trust me,” Adora took another step toward the lavender haired woman. “I know. Catra and I grew up together, and she -” her voice wavered a tad “- left me behind too. Didn’t even say goodbye.”

An arm of hair wound its way into Entrapta’s hands. Pulsed a little as she stroked it. Adora took another step closer.

“Catra got the people that could do the most for her - the people she _cared_ about - and she left. It’s what she does.” Bitterness crept into her voice, and, for once, she didn’t purge it. “Did she tell _you_ goodbye? Did any of the Princesses? Do they even know you’re gone?”

Entrapta looked toward the floor. 

“I didn’t think so. How long have you been waiting?”

Another moment of silence before the recorder came back in the twine of her hair. The click of the button sounded like a gunshot in the silent room. “Fright Zone log: hour forty-five.” A pause. “Is that right? I don’t know if that’s right. It was hard to tell in the walls.” Entrapta raised her head to stare at the door. “Hour forty-five, that’s… that’s too many hours.” Her shoulders sagged, and she flipped up her mask. “The blond may be right. They’re not coming back for me.”

“We could use someone like you in the Horde - just as you are,” Adora said earnestly, a hand moving to rest on Entrapta’s shoulder. “And you’d never have to worry about shoddy tech or restricted experiments here, just ask Shadow Weaver.” She paused, raised a finger to her chin. “Or don’t. Definitely don’t ask Shadow Weaver. Still though, you could do a lot.”

Almost-red eyes met hers. “ _We_ could do a lot. More than you ever could in the Rebellion.”

Entrapta’s lips quirked upward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyyyy, 2021! Hope y’alls New Years was alright and your first weeks of January are going okay so far. I didn’t end up travelling because I’m not an insane person, but was still super super busy arranging virtual meetings with loved ones and gifts and stuff. Not to mention the cooking. And WoW. Help me.
> 
> Anyway. I’m not sure on the grammar on this chapter, nor am I super confident in the Adora/Entrapta conversation. I meant to go back and rewrite it, but… I dunno. Just couldn’t think of much. That said, I have a lot of thoughts on Shadow Weaver. Not just in this chapter, but like, in general. The parallels that the show makes between addiction and Shadow Weaver’s usage of the Black Garnet are far too consistent for me to ignore or not notice - especially with a family history like mine. And that core of addiction is why I think she lashes out and hurts Adora in this chapter. 
> 
> Shadow Weaver ends up perceiving Hordak as a threat to her fix, which is really really bad, but since she can’t take that out on Hordak she takes it out on Adora. She’s a stressed out, power hungry, dark magic addict who needs access to that Runestone to maintain any sort of strength of choice in her own path. Part of - in my headcanon - why she looks so shit in the cells in the show is because she’s going through dark magic withdrawal. 
> 
> Originally I had Shadow Weaver blasting across the room with explosions, but I didn’t like how that fit so I changed it to force constrict like we see her to do Catra that one time in the show. Think it fits better that way. 
> 
> As always, feel free to point out any errors I’ve made in characterization or grammar as well as what you folk think I can improve upon. Gettin closer to Promise!!!
> 
> Stay safe, y’all.


	6. New Horizons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adora and Catra set out in search of answers.

Adora cocked her head this way and that, but still couldn’t make any sense of the lump of wires and screens in front of her. “Alright, I give up. What is it?”

Entrapta’s bouncing from hair to hair stopped at the question, morphed into a leap that had her almost halfway up to the ceiling of the old storeroom. “It’s a new, standardized brain for all the Horde’s bots!”

She blinked, then blinked again when Entrapta appeared in front of her face, eyes sparkling. “It’s so powerful,” the Princess whispered. 

Adora set both hands on her shoulders and maneuvered the scientist back two steps. Purple hair wound its way across the mass of wires and screens and optics at random. “Alright. It’s a new brain,” she glanced at Scorpia, but the other Force Captain just scratched her head and shrugged at her. “So… what’s new about it? Exactly?”

Entrapta scream-laughed once, the sound bouncing around the tiny room again and again. “I am so glad you asked!” The purple haired Princess turned to rummage in a pile of stuttering parts sat in the corner of the workshop before. “Aha!” She whipped back around to face them with a clump of blinking metal in hand, her mask down and red eyes shining like bulbs. “This is an old bot brain - standard for the Horde across all systems. It’s… not great, too limited. It can handle direct orders and clear terrain fine, but it’s terrible at improvisation - not to mention just generally slow. Bad! It’s bad! Tell them, Emily!"

The bot curled up in the corner blinked and beeped. 

“See?! Emily deserves better memory capabilities, so I built her some!” Entrapta pushed herself off the floor with her hair and crossed her legs. “And then I thought ‘why limit it to just Emily?’ After all, every bot in the Horde uses the same central processing template -” they did? “- so I could just make the brain standardized!”

Purple and red flashed as the Princess twirled in midair, arms out. She came to a dead stop to stare at Adora. “So I did! What do you think?”

Adora glanced between Entrapta’s impassive mask, the bundle of wires and scrap, and the bot rocking back and forth in the corner. Behind her, Scorpia hummed. “It’s - that’s good!” It certainly _sounded_ good, at least, what she could decipher sounded good. The Princess had a habit of blurring words into each other when she got excited about something. “So. Better improvisation,” she counted with her fingers and Entrapta nodded rapidly, “Faster, and…” she trailed off, but the Princess didn’t move. 

“And what else, Entrapta?” 

“More compact size and greater memory storage capacity!”

Grey-blue eyes glanced at the lump of steel wool that Entrapta called a ‘brain.’ It was at least twice the size of the older model she’d plopped on the table earlier. “Wait,” Scorpia said, moving up to stand shoulder to shoulder with Adora. “The new one’s bigger.”

“Oh that’s just the prototype. The testbed really. Now that I know what I need, how to build it, and where it goes I can get it at least a fourth smaller than the original model.” The mask flipped up to reveal sparkling eyes and a tongue poking out of her mouth. “Maybe more…” 

“Good,” that’s good. Smaller meant more room to store weapons and armor. _But_ , another part of her interjected, _it also means the bots’ internal design would need to be moved around_. Adora frowned without realizing it while Entrapta moved to the wall and began sketching blueprints on its surface, babbling into a recorder as she did. “Entrapta.”

The Princess didn’t respond. 

Adora took a step closer, her hand coming to land on the small shoulder. Her mouth stopped mid-sentence, and lilac snapped to her hand, then followed the arm up to her eyes. “Oh. Adora, I forgot you were there.” Entrapta cocked her head to the side, “what do you need?”

“Just wanted to know if you had an estimate on when you might be done. Hordak -” eyes white like fire blazed in her head “- would probably like to know when you’re finished.”

“Hm. I don’t know! That’s okay, I can just tell him when I’m -”  
  


“No!” Scorpa and Adora’s voices overlapped into a single, shrill wave of panic that echoed down the open door. She glanced to the other Force Captain. It was good to know they were on the same page. “No you… you _really_ shouldn’t do that. Just let Scorpia or me know when you’re done, and I’ll tell him. Alright?”

Entrapta’s face looked a little pained, a finger circling in her ear. “Alright. I’ll let you know when it’s finished. Did you -” she flipped her visor down and turned back to the workshop bench still scattered with wires and scraps “- need anything else?”

“No,” Adora said, and moved to exit the room only to stop shoulder to shoulder with Scorpia. The white-haired woman was utterly focused on watching Entrapta work. “Scorpia?”

Scorpia jolted and looked up, face relaxing. “Yeah?”

“Keep an eye on her, please. Make sure she doesn’t blow anything up, or worse, break into Hordak’s lab.”

“You got it, Adora! I won’t let her out of my - oh.”

Adora’s feet stopped in the middle of the doorframe. “What?”

“Where did - did you see where she went?”

“No. But she can’t have gotten far,” and with that she stepped out of the hectic little workshop and back into the patchwork hallways of the central spire. She walked solely for the sake of moving with no destination in mind. Past the foundry level that clanked and shook with machinery, past the cafeteria and barracks that hummed with chatter and laughter of troops on leave. Past the gym and the Officer’s Quarters and the armory. 

Up, and up, and up. Until she found herself in the silent hall outside the Black Garnet Chamber, the great red door glaring down at her. Why had her feet taken her here? Why now?

One hand typed in the access code without looking. Done it so much it was muscle memory. Quick enough that she barely noticed her hand shaking. 

Gears hissed and whirred on the final digit - a familiar sound. Comforting once, but now all she could hear was the jaggedness in the cylinders, the screech and grind of metal on metal. Like the shrill tones at the start of an alarm. 

The great red door rose like smoke through a vent. Angry crimson light filled the space it left behind, spilling out into the corridor and dyeing the walls. Muscles taut as stone in her back and neck, and she entered. 

“Shadow Weaver?”

No answer but the crackle-hum of the Garnet.

She moved toward it. Slow, careful steps like she was walking through a minefield. Until she was barely half a foot from its surface and could see herself in its sheen. A red, elongated caricature with snapping bolts of scarlet lightning instead of veins, and eyes cut into hard prisms.

A pulse of energy, and the reflection rippled. 

Was Shadow Weaver right? How much was her, and how much was the reflection that the woman had crafted and polished to a shining green badge? 

“Adora,” her spine straightened and her arms went taut. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Shadow -” the voice that came was not hers. It was small and fearful and weak. She swallowed, set her shoulders, and turned halfway. “Shadow Weaver. I’m sorry about the intrusion.”

“Oh it’s no trouble, dear,” the sorceress said, waving her apology aside with a slim hand and a gentle tone. She filled the air next to Adora, gazing up at the Runestone with eyes stained red. “Magnificient, isn’t it?”

Another pulse of energy and the room glowed a swollen vermillion. It settled on her front like a weight and held her still. Was it magnificent? “I’m not sure.”

“Ah, but that is because you are young, and cannot see its gifts. Trust me when I say: it is more than a beautiful stone.” Shadow Weaver stretched a single hand out, laid it on the Runestone with a loving sigh. Her veins turned scarlet and the sorceress straightened. “It is… _so_ much more. It is pure, unrestrained power.”

Adora turned away from Shadow Weaver, toward the Runestone. Her eyes trailing upward along the perfect, shining surface, past the stretched lines of her arms, over the grey of her cuirass she’d taken to wearing everywhere. Up and up, until her eyes peaked the crystal and she could see the ceiling cemented above them like a cage. 

It was a rock; it was Shadow Weaver’s. 

Shadow Weaver’s power, Shadow Weaver’s bolts of flickering crimson, Shadow Weaver’s magic, her position, her freedom.

It was Shadow Weaver’s Force Captain staring back at her. 

She reached for the stone hesitantly, like at any second that perfect surface might crack open into a jagged maw and swallow her fingers. But it didn’t. It didn’t move, and it didn’t react at all when she placed her hand flat upon the reflection’s.

Shadow Weaver’s hand lighted on her shoulder and she sucked in a breath to bury the flinch. The light from the Runestone ate the woman’s left side and spat it out, shining and ruby and sparkling with possessiveness. “It will not work for you,” she said, voice light and amused. Like she was explaining to a child why they couldn’t drive a tank. 

“Why not?” Was the Runestone always tied to Hordak’s Second? Or was it just another accessory to Shadow Weaver’s position? 

A chuckle, high and genuine trickled from the gaps between her mask. “The Runestone is tied directly to the magic of Etheria. A heartbeat snaking through every blade of grass, every cloud in the sky. You are strong, Adora, but you are not magically attuned. It would be like trying to access a datapad without a battery. I, on the other hand, have the capability to unravel its riddles and seize its power.” 

“To control it,” Adora said.

She saw Shadow Weaver nod in the crystal’s face. “Yes. And through it - and you,” the hand squeezed her shoulder softly, “bring us victory. Hordak will see once again why I am valuable.”

Adora couldn’t hide the scowl that slipped onto her face. Is that all Shadow Weaver thought of her? A stone that only she held the key to? A means to an end? A lever she could lean on? _A science experiment_ , Adora remembered. Adora may not be the smartest person, but she knew that experiments didn’t last forever, and there was never just one. 

Maybe the woman Adora had wanted had never really been there. Catra seemed to know it.

“Yes,” Adora decided, the reflection of Shadow Weaver’s mask undulating with each beat of power. “He will.”

The white eyes of the mask crinkled in what Adora thought - once knew - to be a smile. “Indeed he will, my Adora. Indeed he will.”

The reflection in the stone was Shadow Weaver’s Force Captain, but it did not have to be.

* * *

“Fuck! This is _fucking worthless!_ ” The sword - a faded streak of blue and gold sailed through the air, crashed against the wall, and fell to the floor. Catra glared at it. Glared at it as if _it_ was the problem, as if, if she did it enough, the damned thing would burst into flames or start uploading instructions into her brain on how to _fucking_ _use it_.

She screamed a desperate scream of frustration, clawed fingers tearing into hair that had grown to the middle of her back. They came away bloody, but she didn’t care. Didn’t care one fucking bit. 

“Why won’t you work?! What am I doing wrong?! Tell me!” Each word carried her toward the stolid metal, body shaking and shoulders heaving. “Give me _something_ \- _anything!_ ”

The sword did not respond. Catra glowered. 

“Worthless,” she repeated, foot redirecting into the wall at the last second when she remembered that kicking a blade was a bad idea. Sharp pain arced up her leg and helped her focus. Forced her over to the bed she never used to sit on top of it.

The worst part? She _knew_ the sword could heal Glimmer. Could feel it somehow, could sense the capability at the edge of her thoughts whenever she held the thing and thought about her friend. But whenever she reached out to grasp it it slipped away. A little farther each time. 

It was her. It had to be her. She was too stupid or too weak or too - too _something_ for the sword to work for her. With Glimmer borderline comatose Queen Angella was out of commission, and without her daughter the rebellion was headless. Writhing around on the ground like a decapitated snake. An easy target. 

If she failed here now then the Rebellion would fail, her friends would die, and the Horde would win. Adora would win. 

A growl crawled up her throat, bounced off the sword, and sailed out the window toward the Whispering Woods. Catra watched it go, counted the tree trunks and the birds flitting between them. It reminded her of her first few days with the sword. With the Rebellion.

Reminded her of a castle and a hologram. 

Catra’s hand wrapped around the hilt and she vanished out the window.

* * *

Adora strode into the closet-turned-workshop with steps powered by aimless confidence. It wasn’t so much a decision, not really. More of a realization. A realization that played on loop in her head and sucked in everything around her to spit it back out different. Changed in a way she couldn’t quite place. 

It was still the Horde, it was still the Fright Zone, and she was still Shadow Weaver’s lieutenant. Though not for long. But the world around her seemed… open in a way she couldn’t remember it being.

Her whole drive was focused on that one realization, nodding to its face and turning to go before whipping back around to make sure it had ever been there in the first place. But it was. _She_ was. For the first time since she’d gotten her Force Captain badge, she had a way _forward_.

Strobing light brought her back to the real world. White flashing quicker than she could blink in a stuttering blanket that swallowed the room before vanishing. Repeated so quickly it was almost steady. She had to turn and face the wall by the door to stop it from burning her eyes.

Scorpia was there, goggles over her eyes and whole focus consumed just by watching Entrapta work. 

“What’s she doing?” Adora moved next to her fellow Force Captain - maybe even friend at this point, but she wasn’t sure about that yet - smiling a little at the way the huge Princess jumped a bit when she spoke.

“Oh! Adora!” A claw tapped the goggles wrapped around her head, “guess I didn’t see you come in.”

“Guess not,” Adora turned back for a moment to watch Entrapta work. She was only able to look for a split second, but it was enough to catch a frozen portrait of the woman bent over a workshop table, a sparking tool in her hands. It looked almost like a freeze frame from a video - like the connection had dropped halfway through and left the image flickering in limbo. The light was so bright that all of her lilac coloring had been washed out to a deadened almost-pink. 

Then she was wincing and screwing her eyes shut, head back to facing the spot where Scorpia had just been. The light was so bright it almost pierced her eyelids. “I can help! I have something for this!” She couldn’t open her eyes, but she could hear what sounded like someone losing a fight with hunks of scrap metal.

“Here!” Scorpia proclaimed right as a bit of plastic slapped her in the forehead. Adora’s hands snapped up to grab it blindly - it felt like another pair of goggles - and fit them over her head. “Flip the switch on the left - here, actually just let me - there ya go!”

The inside of her eyelids turned a pleasant black, still stained with spots of lingering white, and she opened her eyes. Scorpia was staring back at her, smile almost as wide as her shoulders. 

Adora managed to return it, even if it probably looked more like a grimace as she blinked the spots out of her eyes. No matter how much she did it, the little things were still dancing across her vision. 

“What’s she - ugh.” She screwed her eyes shut, held it for two beats, and opened them again. “What’s she doing?”

“She’s - well. Entrapta?” The Princess turned to Scorpia just barely a fraction. Just enough to let them know she heard, no more. “What! Are you! Doing?!”

“Why are you shouting?”

“Why _are_ you shouting?” Adora echoed. It was bright, not loud.

“Because I -” Scorpia looked to her, mouth opening and closing like a broken autodoor, then back to Entrapta “- well, you just - you didn’t answer me earlier, so I thought you couldn’t hear me -”

“Nope! I was just ignoring you so I could work!”

“Wha - _ignoring_ me?”

“Yep!”

“That’s - you’re - hm.” Somehow, despite being at least six-foot-five and stronger than about four soldiers put together, Scorpia still managed to pout. 

“But to answer your question I’m trying to iterate on my previous prototype bot brain!” The short woman’s eyes snapped back to the conglomeration of still glowing metal strewn across her workbench. Adora saw Scorpia mouth ‘previous prototype’ to herself in her periphery. “I’ve got some improvements I want to make - specifically to the calculations-per-minute capability and act-upon-orders algorithms - that I want to make before I start making more.”

Scorpia turned to face her while a dull white resumed lighting up the room, “she’s iterating on her previous - hm. Previous prototype bot brain before she -”

“Got that bit, yeah,” Adora grunted. “How’s it going?”

In response, Entrapta screamed. Her arms and legs splaying out in a starburst from her body while her hair went rigid and straight, carrying her almost halfway up to the ceiling. “Badly! Very -” pale purple hands drew back in to strangle something invisible in front of her “- badly.”

Adora blinked. “Uh. Very badly?”

“Yes! I’m trying to weld the two main control circuits together and merge their processing power to prevent computational bottlenecking but the alloys won’t stop _melting_ when _they shouldn’t_ and the power fluctuations in my electrowelder are too large to maintain steady temperature rates despite my compensations and -” another scream and the Princess coiled up in a cocoon of quivering purple hair. “Badly.”

“I’m sorry to hear that?” Could she help? Was there a way to help?   
  


Entrapta didn’t even look like she’d heard, too busy glaring at the smoldering pile of burnt parts splayed across the table like a body in the morgue. 

“Can we help at all, Entrapta?” Scorpia’s voice. The woman in question taking a few careful steps toward the Princess, claws tapping against each other. 

“No! Obviously! Maybe? Wait!” The cocoon split apart in a tornado of purple hair, Entrapta launching herself so her face was only a scant few inches away from Scorpia’s. “You don’t have any First One’s tech here, do you?”

Scorpia’s mouth remained locked in an ‘O’.

“Probably not,” Adora answered for the slowly recovering Force Captain. A pause. “What is that?”

“First Ones? You know, the first peoples to settle Etheria a few thousand years ago? Their tech is hundreds of years ahead of anything we had here!” Each word was getting faster now as Entrpata’s anger morphed into excitement, syllables colliding together like a train car pileup. “Even I can’t make sense of all of it and I’ve been studying it for years but if I had some right now which you said you don’t have then I could really improve the likelihood of the bot brain being finished and also make _improvements_ and shrink it down _even more_ and give Emily some much needed upgrades and -”

Her palm settled over Entratpa’s mouth and blocked the tidal wave of jargon that threatened to have her eyes roll back in her head. The lips under her hand took a full three seconds to realize there was something over them. Off-red eyes widened. 

“Slow down a bit. First Ones tech. You need some? Nod for yes.”

Entrapta nodded, and a plan began to form in Adora’s mind.

“Would you be able to do _more_ than the bot brain with it?”

Another nod. 

“Do you know where to find any?”

Lilac hair rippled at eye level, snapping out to the workbench to grab a datapad and inputting a quick code before raising itself to eye level over Entrapta’s head like a screen on a wallhook. It was a rough map of the Fright Zone’s border with the Whispering Wood composed of lattice and blue. Blank, except for a blue dot that pinged steadily. 

A smile, slow and wide, spread across her face. When Adora took her hand off Entrpata’s mouth a question followed. Simple, to the point. “Give me the details.”

* * *

Adora was packing her bag when Shadow Weaver found her. The woman was near silent, the only sound giving her away a gentle swish of cloth and hair brushing together. When she turned it was hard not to freeze. Hard not to see eyes glowing like little suns, frothing with indignation and a deep, tearing need. 

They looked almost empty now. Hollow and tired. “Shadow Weaver,” Adora greeted, tone entirely flat. 

“Adora. What… what are you doing?”

Adora didn’t need to look up - she knew the woman would be hovering over her shoulder to get a glimpse in her bag. Could feel it in the breath that slid over her bare bicep like oil. “Packing. I’m going on a reconnaissance incursion into the Whispering Wood with some of Tanglewood.” She wasn’t. “See if the route to Theymoor is still cleared.”

Silence. With only the hum of power in the walls and the wet, uneven breathing of her - of Shadow Weaver to fill it. “You’re lying to me.”

Her arms froze for barely a second, a stutter so minute a drill sergeant wouldn’t have caught it, but the woman was more than that. “You’re going to find Catra, aren’t you?”

The thin lines of her lips turned downward into a scowl. She’d hoped nobody would mention her. Not today. Not for a while. “Maybe,” Adora replied, cramming an extra stun baton into the spaces between her rations and listening to the metal screech. It’d get over it. Probably.

“I didn’t approve this sortie.”

“You didn’t need to. Hordak gave me special tasking.” Entrapta had convinced him, actually. 

Every sound from beside her froze just long enough for Adora to flip the cover over her rucksack and swing it over one shoulder. When she looked at Shadow Weaver she was reminded of a crumpled mess hall cup. Like someone had taken a vacuum to one end of the straw and sucked until the plastic walls all touched.

“Did he now?”

Their eyes met for all of a moment before Adora looked away. Looked at the patchwork wall and the riveted seams, her mouth moving in a simple “he did.”

“I see.” Two words that felt like a death sentence. She struggled to not flinch. 

“It’s just a few days,” she said to the wall. “I’ll be back soon and I can help you with -” her eyes went back to the hunched, frayed woman before her.

“I do not need your _help_.” The words were pure venom. “I do not need your _sympathy_ , I do not need your _affection._ I only need your obedience, Force Captain.”

She went ramrod straight, something - a mix of shame, guilt, wistfulness, and anger mixing in her gut to form a rancid stew. “Yes ma’am.”

Adora about-faced and marched out of the Fright Zone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AGGGGGGGGGGH LATE CHAPTER. Sorry about the time of day for this one folks, just couldn’t get it out any earlier sadly. Not sure how I feel about it as a whole. I like it, but I’m not sure I reached its full potential if that makes sense? Oh well, maybe I’ll come back to it at a later date. 
> 
> As a heads up, not sure I’ll be posting a chapter next week (which yes, the next chapter is Promise and I am very very very very excited!!!) as I’m not too comfortable with my remaining chapter buffer. May end up taking a one or two week hiatus to write more of these bad boys before publishing another. We’ll see. Y’all will know if I don’t publish a chapter next week. 
> 
> Big thanks to my partner for beta-ing this one! What a godsend tbh. 
> 
> If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go rewatch shitty TV shows (not She-Ra don’t worry I’d never say that about She-Ra bby)
> 
> Have a good one, and stay safe y’all!


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